X/ 


Shelf 


PRINCETON,  N.  J. 


Number 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2019  with  funding  from 
Princeton  Theological  Seminary  Library 


https://archive.org/details/giantcitiesofbas00port_1 


I 


t 


« 


*?[  £  . 

*  . 

# 


THE 

*  / 

Giant  Cities  of  Bashan; 

,  AND 


SYRIA’S  HOLY  PLACES. 


By  the 

REV.  J.  L.  ^PORTER,  A.M., 


Author  of  “  Five  Years  in  Damascus' '  “ Murray's  Hand-Book  for  Syria  and 
Palestine “  The  Pentateuch  and  the  Gospels,"  &*c. 


New- York  : 

THOMAS  HMELSOUKT  &  SONS, 

No.  42  Bleecker  Street. 

1873. 


« 


*  V 


4 


TO  THE  RIGHT  HONOURABLE 


Ifcrrtr  gufferm  mib  Cfoudrcnrc,  f 


&r*C.  Qr*C. 


Y  LORD — I  dedicate  this  little  volume  to  you 
in  grateful  acknowledgement  of  that  personal 
friendship  with  which  you  have  honoured  me, 
and  as  a  humble  testimony,  from  one  who  feels  a  deep 
interest  in  Syria’s  welfare,  to  those  noble  exertions  which 
your  Lordship  made  to  heal  the  divisions  and  promote 
the  prosperity  of  that  unhappy  land.  I  have  good  reason 
to  know  that  the  wise  counsels  you  gave  and  the  enlight¬ 
ened  policy  you  advocated,  while  British  Commissioner  in 
Syria,  secured  the  esteem  and  confidence  of  all  parties ; 
and  I  feel  assured  that,  had  the  policy  which  you  inaugu¬ 
rated  with  such  success  in  the  Lebanon  been  extended  in 
the  manner  you  proposed  to  the  whole  of  Syria,  the  dawn 
of  a  bright  future  would  ere  this  have  begun  to  illumine 
its  blood-stained  plains  and  mountains. 

I  have  not  said  much  in  these  pages  of  that  war  between 


u 


DEDICATION. 


rival  sects  which  recently  desolated  some  of  the  fairest 
provinces  of  Lebanon,  nor  of  those  massacres  which  must 
leave  the  brand  of  everlasting  infamy  alike  on  those  who 
planned,  fostered,  and  perpetrated  them.  I  should  per¬ 
haps  have  said  more  had  I  not  expected  that  they  would 
have  found  an  abler  historian  in  u  our  mutual  friend  ”  Mr. 
Cyril  Graham.  In  the  absence  of  fuller  details,  I  am  hap¬ 
py  to  be  able  to  insert  in  an  Appendix  one  or  two  deeply 
interesting  papers  from  the  Rev.  Smylie  Robson,  who,  as 
you  know,  passed  through  the  fearful  three  days’  carnage  in 
Damascus. 

I  confess  that  I  feel  considerable  hesitation  in  placing 
these  sketches  of  Bible  lands  and  Bible  story  before  one 
in  every  way  so  competent  as  your  Lordship  to  detect 
their  many  imperfections.  You  will  perceive  that  they 
are  fragmentary.  I  do  not  attempt  a  description  of  all 
Palestine,  or  of  all  Syria.  I  omit  many  of  the  most  noted 
places,  and  some  of  the  most  celebrated  shrines.  I  do 
so,  not  because  I  think  their  mines  of  interest  and  in¬ 
struction  have  been  exhausted  ;  far  from  it — I  believe 
there  is  still  much,  very  much,  to  be  done  for  the  illustra¬ 
tion  of  the  history  and  language  of  the  Bible  by  the 
thoughtful  and  observant  traveller.  Bible  stories  are 
grafted  upon  local  scenes;  and,  as  is  always  the  case  in 
real  history,  these  scenes  have  moulded  and  regulated,  to 
a  greater  or  less  extent,  the  course  of  events ;  consequent¬ 
ly,  the  more  full  and  graphic  the  descriptions  of  the  scenes, 
the  more  vivid  and  life-like  will  the  stories  become.  The 
imagery  of  Scripture,  too,  is  eminently  Eastern:  it  is  a 
reflection  of  the  country.  The  parables,  metaphors,  and 
illustrations  of  the  sacred  writers  were  borrowed  from  the 


DEDICATION. 


•  •  • 
til 

objects  that  met  their  eyes,  and  with  which  the  first 
readers  were  familiar.  Until  we  become  equally  familiar 
with  those  objects,  much  of  the  force  and  beauty  of  God’s 
Word  must  be  lost.  The  topography  of  Palestine  can 
never  be  detailed  with  too  great  minuteness ;  its  scenery 
and  natural  products  can  never  be  studied  with  too  much 
care.  Bible  metaphors  and  parables  take  the  vividness 
of  their  own  sunny  clime  when  viewed  among  the  hills 
of  Palestine ;  and  Bible  history  appears  as  if  acted  anew 
when  read  upon  its  old  stage. 

I  have  not  avoided  those  more  familiar  localities,  then, 
because  previous  writers  have  exhausted  them,  but  simply 
because  I  have  been  anxious  to  lead  my  readers  to  other 
and  less  familiar  scenes.  I  had  opportunities,  during  my 
long  residence  in  the  East,  of  visiting  regions  seldom — 
some  of  them  never  before — trodden  by  European  tra¬ 
vellers.  As  I  could  not  undertake  a  survey  of  all  the 
Bible  lands  over  which  I  wandered,  I  have  thought  it  best 
to  confine  myself  in  this  volume  to  those  which  appear  to 
furnish  information  in  some  measure  fresh  and  new.  I 
have  passed  by  Bethlehem  and  Nazareth,  Hebron  and 
Jericho,  Tiberias  and  Shechem,  that  I  might  linger  in 
Philistia  and  Sharon,  Lebanon  and  Palmyra,  Hamath 
and  Bashan. 

You  will  also  observe,  my  Lord,  that  the  book  is  not  a 
simple  diary  of  travel ;  nor  is  it  a  disquisition  upon  history 
or  geography.  I  have  in  most  cases  attempted  to  group 
together  in  a  popular  way  the  incidents  and  results  of 
two,  three,  and  occasionally  many  visits  to  the  same 
region,  filling  in  the  events  of  sacred  history,  and  showing 
the  customs  of  primitive  life,  as  illustrated  by  what  passed 


IV 


DEDICATION. 


before  me.  My  aim  lias  been  to  give,  as  far  as  possible, 
a  complete  picture,  and  to  enable  my  readers  to  see  the 
distant  past  more  clearly  through  the  medium  of  the 
present. 

During  all  my  journeys  the  Bible  was  my  constant 
companion.  I  read  its  prophecies,  as  well  as  its  history, 
amid  the  scenes  to  which  they  refer.  I  could  not  shut 
my  eyes  to  the  graphic  details  of  the  Record,  nor  to  the 
ruin  and  desolations  of  the  land;  and  I  could  not  resist 
the  conclusions  which  a  careful  comparison  forced  upon 
me.  I  do  not  wish,  my  Lord,  to  make  you  in  any  way 
responsible  for  these  conclusions,,  or  for  the  views  I  have 
ventured  to  express.  Free  thought  and  free  inquiry,  con¬ 
ducted  honestly,  and  in  the  case  of  the  Bible  reverentially, 
is  the  right  of  every  man.  This,  while  fully  granting  it 
to  others,  I  claim  for  myself.  I  have  in  all  cases  attempted 
to  exhibit  two  pictures, — one  of  the  country,  as  seen  by 
myself ;  another  as  sketched  by  the  Hebrew  prophets. 
My  readers,  if  not  satisfied  with  my  conclusions,  can 
draw  their  own. 

One  thing,  however,  all  Eastern  travellers  must  admit 
— the  perfect  harmony  between  the  Bible  and  the  land 
in  which  it  was  written.  I  have  heard  your  Lordship 
bear  noble  and  eloquent  testimony  to  the  fact.  Even 
M.  Renan,  with  all  his  prejudices,  saw  it,  and  has  ex¬ 
pressed  it  in  language  of  equal  truth  and  beauty :  “  Toute 
cette  histoire  qui,  a  distance,  semble  Hotter  dans  les 
nuages  d’un  monde  sans  realite,  prit  ainsi  un  corps, 
une  solidite  qui  m’etonnerent.  L’accord  frappant  des 
textes  et  des  lieux,  la  merveilleuse  liarmonie  de  l’ideal 
6vangelique  avec  le  pay  sage  qui  lui  servit  de  cadre  furent . 


DEDICATION. 


V 


pour  moi  comme  une  revelation.”  These  are  remarkable 
words,  which  the  Biblical  student  must  fully  appreciate. 

Permit  me,  in  conclusion,  to  thank  your  Lordship  for 
this  opportunity  of  paying  my  hearty,  though  humble 
tribute  to  your  high  talents  and  distinguished  services, 
and  to  subscribe  myself, 

My  Lord, 

Tours  faithfully  and  respectfully, 

J.  L.  PORTER. 

Brandon  Towers,  Belfast. 

January  1865. 


CONTENTS. 


Basean  and  its  Giant  Cities  ..  ...  .. 

The  Jordan  and  the  Dead  Sea  ..  <,«.  .» 

Jerusalem  and  its  Environs — 

I.  Jerusalem 

II.  The  Tombs  of  the  Holy  City 

III.  Olivet  and  Bethany 

IV.  The  Battle-fields  of  Gibeon,  Ai,  and  Michmash 

The  Land  of  the  Philistines  ..  .. 

Galilee  and  the  Sea-Coast — 

I.  Sharon  and  Carmel 

II.  Mount  Tabor  and  the  Valley  of  Jezreel 

III.  The  Shrines  of  Naphtali  and  Cities  of  Phoenicia 

Northern  Border  Land — 

I,  Lebanon  •»  ••  •• 

II.  Hamath  and  the  Northern  Border  of  Israel 

III.  Palmyra  . .  . . 

IV.  Damascus  «»  ..  •• 

Appendix  . .  ‘  . .  .  .  .  .  ■ 

Texts  of  Scripture  Illustrated  or  Explained  .. 


Pag« 

9 

99 


119 

136 

155 

172 

187 

227 

243 

262 

285 

307 

327 

342 

861 

871 


Index 


875 


BASHAN  AND  ITS  GIANT  CITIES. 


itsljsnt  stub  its  (Siimt  Cities. 


/ 


L 

“  All  Basban,  unto  Salchah  and  Edrei,  cities  of  the  kingdom  of  Og  in  Bashan.  For  only 
Og  Icing  of  Bashan  remained  of  the  remnant  of  the  giants  ;  behold,  his  bedstead 
was  a  bedstead  of  iron ;  is  it  not  in  Babbath  of  the  children  of  Ammon  ?  nine  cubits 

the  length  thereof,  and  four  cubits  the  breadth  of  it,  after  the  cubit  of  a  man . 

And  the  rest  of  Gilead,  and  all  Bashan,  the  kingdom  of  Og,  gave  I  unto  the  half  tribe  of 
Manasseh ;  all  the  region  of  Argob,  with  all  Bashan ,  which  was  called  the  land  of 
giants."— Deut.  iii.  10-13. 


HISTORICAL  NOTICES. 

ASUAN"  is  the  land  of  sacred  romance.  From  the 
remotest  historic  period  down  to  our  own  day 
there  has  ever  been  something  of  mystery  and 
of  strange  wild  interest  connected  with  that  old 
ldngdom.  In  the  memorable  raid  of  the  Arab  chiefs  of  Me¬ 
sopotamia  into  Eastern  and  Central  Palestine,  we  read  that 
the  “  Rephaim  in  Ashteroth-Karnaim”  bore  the  first  brunt  of 
the  onset.  The  Rephaim , — that  is,  “  the  giants,”  for  such  is 
the  meaning  of  the  name, — men  of  stature,  beside  whom  the 
Jewish  spies  said  long  afterwards  that  they  were  as  grass¬ 
hoppers  (Num.  xiii.  33).  These  were  the  aboriginal  inhabi¬ 
tants  of  Bashan,  and  probably  of  the  greater  part  of  Ca¬ 
naan.  Most  of  them  died  out,  or  were  exterminated  at  a 
very  early  period ;  but  a  few  remarkable  specimens  of  the 
race — such  as  Goliath,  and  Sippai,  and  Lahmi  (1  Cliron 


12 


BASHAN  AND  ITS  GIANT  CITIES. 


xx.) — were  the  terror  of  the  Israelites,  and  the  champions  of 
their  foes,  as  late  as  the  time  of  David; — and,  strange  to 
say,  traditionary  memorials  of  these  primeval  giants  exist 
even  now  in  almost  every  section  of  Palestine,  in  the  form 
of  graves  of  enormous  dimensions, — as  the  grave  of  Abel, 
near  Damascus,  thirty  feet  long ;  that  of  Seth,  in  AntidLe- 
banon,  about  the  same  size;  and  that  of  Noah,  in  Lebanon, 
which  measures  no  less  than  seventy  yards !  The  capital 
and  stronghold  of  the  Rephaim  in  Bashan  was  Ashteroth- 
Karnaim ;  so  called  from  the  goddess  there  worshipped, — 
the  mysterious  “  two-horned  Astarte.”  We  shall  presently 
see,  if  my  readers  will  accompany  me  in  my  proposed  tour, 
that  the  cities  built  and  occupied  some  forty  centuries  ago 
by  these  old  giants  exist  even  yet.  I  have  traversed  their 
streets;  I  have  opened  the  doors  of  their  houses;  I  have 
slept  peacefully  in  their  long-deserted  halls.  W e  shall  see, 
too,  that  among  the  massive  ruins  of  these  wonderful  cities 
lie  sculptured  images  of  Astarte,  with  the  crescent  moon, 
which  gave  her  the  name  Garnaim ,  upon  her  brow.  Of  one 
of  these  mutilated  statues  I  took  a  sketch  in  the  city  of  Ke- 
nath ;  and  in  the  same  place  I  bought  from  a  shepherd  an 
old  coin  with  the  full  figure  of  the  goddess  stamped  upon  it. 

Four  hundred  years  after  the  incursion  of  Chedorlaomer 
and  his  allies,  another  and  a  far  more  formidable  enemy, 
emerging  from  the  southern  deserts,  suddenly  appeared  on 
the  borders  of  Bashan.  Sihon,  the  warlike  king  of  the  Am- 
orites,  who  reigned  in  Heshbon,  had  tried  in  vain  to  bar 
their  progress.  The  rich  plains,  and  wooded  hills,  and 
noble  pasture-lands  of  Bashan  offered  a  tempting  prospect 
to  the  shepherd  tribes  of  Israel.  They  came  not  on  a  sud¬ 
den  raid,  like  the  Nomadic  Arabs  of  the  desert;  they 
aimed  at  a  complete  conquest,  and  a  permanent  settlement. 
The  aboriginal  Rephaim  were  now  all  but  extinct :  “  Only 
king  of  Bashan,  remained  of  the  remnant  of  the  giants.” 
The  last  of  his  race  in  this  region,  he  was  still  the  ruler  of 
his  country :  and  the  whole  Amorite  inhabitants,  from 


HISTORICAL  NOTICES. 


18 


Hermon  to  the  Jabbok,  and  from  the  Jordan  to  the  desert, 
acknowledged  the  supremacy  of  this  giant  warrior.  Og 
resolved  to  defend  his  country.  It  was  a  splendid  inherit¬ 
ance,  and  he  would  not  resign  it  without  a  struggle.  Col¬ 
lecting  his  forces,  he  marshalled  them  on  the  broad  plain 
before  Edrei.  We  have  no  details  of  the  battle ;  but,  doubt¬ 
less,  the  Amorites  and  their  leader  fought  bravely  for  coun¬ 
try  and  for  life.  It  was  in  vain ;  a  stronger  than  human 
arm  warred  for  Israel.  Og’s  army  was  defeated,  and  he 
himself  slain.  It  would  seem  that  the  Ammonites,  like  the 
Bedawin  of  the  present  day,  followed  in  the  wake  of  the 
Israelitish  army;  and  after  the  defeat  and  flight  of  the 
Amorites,  pillaged  their  deserted  capital,  Edrei,  and  carried 
off  as  a  trophy  the  iron  bedstead  of  Og.  “  Is  it  not,”  says 
the  Jewish  historian,  “in  Rabbath  of  the  children  of  Am¬ 
mon?  nine  cubits  the  length  thereof,  and  four  cubits  the 
breadth  of  it,  after  the  cubit  of  a  man”  (Deut.  iii.  11). 

The  conquest  of  Bashan,  begun  under  the  leadership  ot 
Moses  in  person,  was  completed  by  Jair,  one  of  the  most 
distinguished  chiefs  of  the  tribe  of  Manasseh.  In  narrat¬ 
ing  his  achievements,  the  sacred  historian  brings  out  another 
remarkable  fact  connected  with  this  kingdom  of  Bashan. 
In  Argob,  one  of  its  little  provinces,  Jair  took  no  less  than 
sixty  great  cities ,  “  fenced  with  high  walls,  gates,  and  bars ; 
besides  unwalled  towns  a  great  many”  (Deut.  iii.  4,  5,  14). 
Such  a  statement  seems  all  but  incredible.  It  would  not 
stand  the  arithmetic  of  Bishop  Colenso  for  a  moment. 
Often,  when  reading  the  passage,  I  used  to  think  that  some 
strange  statistical  mystery  hung  over  it ;  for  how  could  a 
province  measuring  not  more  than  thirty  miles  by  twenty 
support  such  a  number  of  fortified  cities,  especially  when 
the  greater  part  of  it  was  a  wilderness  of  rocks?  But 
mysterious,  incredible  as  this  seemed,  on  the  spot,  with  my 
own  eyes,  I  have  seen  that  it  is  literally  true.  The  cities 
are  there  to  this  day.  Some  of  them  retain  the  ancient 
names  recorded  in  the  Bible.  The  boundaries  of  Argob  are 


14 


BASHAN  AND  ITS  GIANT  CITIES. 


as  clearly  defined  by  the  band  of  nature  as  those  of  our  own 
island  home.  These  ancient  cities  of  Bashan  contain  prob¬ 
ably  the  very  oldest  specimens  of  domestic  architecture  now 
existing  hi  the  world. 

Though  Bashan  was  conquered  by  the  Israelites,  and  al¬ 
lotted  to  the  half  tribe  of  Manasseh,  some  of  its  native 
tribes  were  not  exterminated.  Leaving  the  fertile  plains 
and  rich  pasture-lands  to  the  conquerors,  these  took  refuge 
in  the  rocky  recesses  of  Argob,  and  amid  the  mountain  fast¬ 
nesses  of  Hermon.  “  The  Geshurites  and  the  Maacathites,” 
Joshua  tells  us,  “  dwell  among  the  Israelites  until  this  day” 
(xiii.  13).  The  former  made  their  home  among  the  rocks 
of  Argob.  Pavid,  in  some  of  his  strange  wanderings,  met 
with,  and  married  the  daughter  of  Talmai,  their  chief ;  and 
*  she  became  the  mother  of  Absalom.  The  wild  acts  of  his 
life  were  doubtless,  to  some  extent,  the  result  of  maternal 
training ;  they  were  at  least  characteristic  of  the  stock  from 
which  she  sprung.  After  murdering  his  brother  Amnon,  he 
fled  to  his  uncle  in  Geshur,  and  found  a  safe  asylum  there 
amid  its  natural  fastnesses,  until  his  father’s  wrath  was  ap¬ 
peased.  It  is  a  remarkable  fact, — and  it  shows  how  little 
change  three  thousand  years  have  produced  on  this  Eastern 
land, — that  Bashan  is  still  the  refuge  for  all  offenders.  If 
a  man  can  only  reach  it,  no  matter  what  may  have  been  his 
crimes  or  his  failings,  he  is  safe ;  the  officers  of  government 
dare  not  follow  him,  and  the  avenger  of  blood  even  turns 
away  in  despair.  During  a  short  tour  in  Bashan,  I  met 
more  than  a  dozen  refugees,  who,  like  Absalom  in  Geshur, 
awaited  in  security  some  favourable  turn  of  events. 

Bashan  was  regarded  by  the  poet-prophets  of  Israel  as 
almost  an  earthly  paradise.  The  strength  and  grandeur 
of  its  oaks  (Ezek.  xxvii.  6),  the  beauty  of  its  mountain 
scenery  (Ps.  lxviii.  15),  the  unrivalled  luxuriance  of  its  pas¬ 
tures  (Jer.  1.  19),  the  fertility  of  its  wide-spreading  plains, 
and  the  excellence  of  its  cattle  (Ps.  xxii.  12;  Micah  vii. 
14), — all  supplied  the  sacred  penmen  with  lofty  imagery, 


GEOGRAPHICAL  DIVISIONS  OF  BASHAN. 


15 


Remnants  of  the  oak  forests  still  clothe  the  mountain-sides ; 
the  soil  of  the  plains  and  the  pastures  on  the  downs  are  rich 
as  of  yore ;  and  though  the  periodic  raids  of  Arab  tribes 
have  greatly  thinned  the  flocks  and  herds,  as  they  have  de¬ 
solated  the  cities,  yet  such  as  remain, — the  rams,  and  lambs, 
and  goats,  and  hulls, — may  he  appropriately  described  in 
the  words  of  Ezekiel,  as  “  all  of  them  fatlings  of  Bashan” 
(xxxix.  18). 

Lying  on  an  exposed  frontier,  bordering  on  the  restless 
and  powerful  kingdom  of  Damascus,  and  in  the  route  of  the 
warlike  monarchs  of  Nineveh  and  Babylon,  Bashan  often 
experienced  the  horrors  of  war,  and  the  desolating  tide  of 
conquest  often  rolled  past  and  over  it.  The  traces  of  an¬ 
cient  warfare  are  yet  visible,  as  we  shall  see,  in  its  ruinous 
fortresses ;  and  we  shall  also  see  that  it  is  now  as  much  ex¬ 
posed  as  ever  to  the  ravages  of  enemies.  It  was  the  first 
province  of  Palestine  that  fell  before  the  Assyrian  invaders ; 
and  its  inhabitants  were  the  first  who  sat  and  wept  as  cap¬ 
tives  by  the  banks  of  the  rivers  of  the  East.  Bashan  ap¬ 
pears  to  have  lost  its  unity  with  Its  freedom.  It  had  been 
united  under  Og,  and  it  remained  united  in  possession  of 
the  half  tribe  of  Manasseh ;  but  after  the  captivity  its  very 
name,  as  a  geographical  term,  disappears  from  history. 
When  the  Israelites  were  taken  captive,  the  scattered  rem¬ 
nants  of  the  ancient  tribes  came  back,  —  some  from  the 
parched  plains  of  the  great  desert,  some  from  the  rocky  defiles 
of  Argob,  and  some  from  the  heights  and  glens  of  Her- 
mon, — and  they  filled  and  occupied  the  whole  country. 
Henceforth  the  name  “  Bashan”  is  never  once  mentioned  by 
either  sacred  or  classic  writer ;  but  the  four  provinces  into 
which  it  was  then  rent  are  often  referred  to, — and  these 
provinces  were  not  themselves  new.  Gaulcinitis  is  manifest¬ 
ly  the  territory  of  Golan,  the  ancient  Hebrew  city  of  refuge ; 
Auranitis  is  only  the  Greek  form  of  the  Hauran  of  Ezekiel 
(xlviii.  16) ;  JBatanea ,  the  name  then  given  to  the  eastern 
mountain  range,  is  but  a  corruption  of  Bashan ;  and  Tra? 


If)  BASHAN  AND  ITS  GIANT  CITIES. 

chonitis ,  embracing  that  singularly  wild  and  rocky  district 
on  the  north,  is  just  a  Greek  translation  of  the  old  Argob , 
“  the  stony.”  This  last  province  is  the  only  one  mentioned 
in  the  New  Testament.  It  formed  part  of  the  tetrarchy  of 
Philip,  son  of  the  great  Herod  (Luke  iii.  1).  But  though 
Bashan  is  not  mentioned  by  name,  it  was  the  scene  of  a 
few  of  the  most  interesting  events  of  New  Testament  his¬ 
tory.  It  was  down  the  western  slopes  of  Bashan’s  high 
table-land  that  the  demons,  expelled  by  Jesus  from  the  poor 
man,  chased  the  herd  of  swine  into  the  Sea  of  Galilee.  It 
was  on  the  grassy  slopes  of  Bashan’s  hills  that  the  multi¬ 
tudes  were  twice  miraculously  fed  by  the  merciful  Saviour. 
And  that  “high  mountain,”  to  which  He  led  Peter,  and 
James,  and  John,  and  on  whose  summit  they  beheld  the 
glories  of  the  transfiguration,  was  that  very  Hermon  which 
forms  the  boundary  of  Bashan.  And  the  sacred  history  of 
this  old  kingdom  does  not  end  here.  Paul  travelled  through 
it  on  his  way  to  Damascus ;  and,  after  his  conversion,  Ba¬ 
shan,  which  then  formed  the  principal  part  of  the  kingdom 
of  Arabia,  was  the  first  field  of  his  labours  as  an  apostle  of 
Jesus.  “When  it  pleased  God,”  he  tells  us,  “who  separat¬ 
ed  me  from  my  mother’s  womb,  and  called  me  by  his  grace, 
to  reveal  his  Son  in  me,  that  I  might  preach  him  among  the 
heathen ;  immediately  I  conferred  not  with  flesh  and  blood : 
neither  went  I  up  to  Jerusalem  to  them  which  were  apos¬ 
tles  before  me;  but  I  went  into  Arabia ”  (Gal.  i.  15-1 7). 
His  mission  to  Arabia,  or  to  Bashan,  seems  to  have  been 
eminently  successful;  and  that  Church,  which  may  be 
called  the  first-fruits  of  his  labours,  made  steady  progress. 
In  the  fourth  century  nearly  the  whole  inhabitants  were 
Christian;  heathen  temples  were  converted  into  churches, 
and  new  churches  were  built  in  every  town  and  village. 
At  that  period  there  were  no  fewer  than  thirty-three  bishop¬ 
rics  in  the  single  ecclesiastical  province  of  Arabia.  The 
Christians  are  now  nearly  all  gone ;  but  their  churches,  as 
we  shall  see,  are  there  still,  —  two  or  three  turned  into 


PATRIAE CHAL  MANNERS  AND  CUSTOMS. 


17 


mosques,  but  the  vast  majority  of  them  standing  desolate 
in  deserted  cities.  Noble  structures  some  of  them  are,  with 
marble  colonnades  and  stately  porticos,  showing  us  alike 
the  wealth  and  the  taste  of  their  founders,  and  now  remain¬ 
ing  almost  perfect,  as  if  awaiting  the  influx  of  a  new  Christ¬ 
ian  population.  There  was  something  to  me  inexpressibly 
mournful  in  passing  from  the  silent  street  into  the  silent 
church;  and  especially  in  reading,  as  I  often  read,  Greek 
inscriptions  over  the  doors,  telling  how  such  an  one,  at  such 
a  date,  had  consecrated  this  building,  formerly  a  temple  of 
Jupiter,  or  Venus,  or  Astarte,  as  the  case  might  be,  to  the 
worship  of  the  Triune  God,  and  had  called  it  by  the  name 
of  - the  blessed  saint  or  martyr  So-and-so.  Now  there  are 
no  worshippers  in  those  churches ;  and  the  people  who  for 
twelve  centuries  have  held  supreme  authority  in  the  land, 
have  been  the  constant  and  ruthless  persecutors  of  Christ¬ 
ians  and  Christianity.  But  their  power  is  on  the  wane; 
their  reign  is  well-nigh  at  an  end ;  and  the  time  is  not  far 
distant  when  Christian  influence,  and  power,  and  industry, 
shall  again  repeople  the  deserted  cities,  and  fill  the  vacant 
churches,  and  cultivate  the  desolated  fields  of  Palestine. 

The  foregoing  notices  will  show  my  readers  that  Bashan 
is,  in  many  respects,  among  the  most  interesting  of  the 
provinces  of  Palestine.  It  is  comparatively  unknown,  be¬ 
sides.  Western  Palestine  is  traversed  every  year ;  it  forms 
a  necessary  part  of  the  Grand  Tour,  and  it  has  been  de¬ 
scribed  in  scores  of  volumes.  But  the  travellers  who  have 
hitherto  succeeded  in  exploring  Bashan  scarcely  amount  to 
half-a-dozen ;  and  the  state  of  the  country  is  so  unsettled, 
and  many  of  the  people  who  inhabit  it  are  so  hostile  to 
Europeans,  and,  in  fact,  to  strangers  in  general,  that  there 
seems  to  be  but  little  prospect  of  an  increase  of  tourists  in 
that  region.  This  very  isolation  of  Bashan  added  immense¬ 
ly  to  the  charm  and  instructiveness  of  my  visit.  Both  land 
and  people  remain  thoroughly  Oriental.  Nowhere  else  is 
patriarchal  life  so  fully  or  so  strikingly  exemplified.  The 


18 


BASHAN  AND  ITS  GIANT  CITIES. 


social  state  of  the  country  and  the  habits  of  the  people  are 
just  what  they  were  in  the  days  of  Abraham  or  Job.  The 
raids  of  the  eastern  tribes  are  as  frequent  and  as  devastat¬ 
ing  now  as  they  were  then.  The  flocks  of  a  whole  village 
are  often  swept  away  in  a  single  incursion,  and  the  fruits 
of  a  whole  harvest  carried  off  in  a  single  night.  The  arms 
used  are,  with  the  exception  of  a  few  muskets,  similar  to 
those  with  which  Chedorlaomer  conquered  the  Rephaim. 
The  implements  of  husbandry,  too,  are  as  rude  and  as  sim¬ 
ple  as  they  were  when  Isaac  cultivated  the  valley  of  Gerar. 
And  the  hospitality  is  everywhere  as  profuse  and  as  genu¬ 
ine  as  that  which  Abraham  exercised  in  his  tents  at  Mamre. 
I  could  scarcely  get  over  the  feeling,  as  I  rode  across  the 
plains  of  Bashan  and  climbed  the  wooded  hills  through  the 
oak  forests,  and  saw  the  primitive  ploughs  and  yokes  of 
oxen  and  goads,  and  heard  the  old  Bible  salutations  given 
by  every  passer-by,  and  received  the  urgent  invitations  to 
rest  and  eat  at  every  village  and  hamlet,  and  witnessed  the 
killing  of  the  kid  or  lamb,  and  the  almost  incredible  de¬ 
spatch  with  which  it  is  cooked  and  served  to  the  guests, — I 
could  scarcely  get  over  the  feeling,  I  say,  that  I  had  been 
somehow  spirited  away  back  thousands  of  years,  and  set 
down  in  the  land  of  Nod,  or  by  the  patriarch’s  tents  at 
Beersheba.  Common  life  in  Bashan  I  found  to  be  a  con¬ 
stant  enacting  of  early  Bible  stories.  Western  Palestine 
has  been  in  a  great  measure  spoiled  by  travellers.  In  the 
towns  frequented  by  tourists,  and  in  their  usual  lines  of 
route,  I  always  found  a  miserable  parody  of  Western  man¬ 
ners,  and  not  unfrequently  of  Western  dress  and  language; 
but  away  in  this  old  kingdom  one  meets  with  nothing  in 
dress,  language,  or  manners,  save  the  stately  and  instruc¬ 
tive  simplicity  of  patriarchal  times. 

Another  peculiarity  of  Bashan  I  cannot  refrain  from  com¬ 
municating  to  my  readers.  The  ancient  cities  and  even  the 
villages  of  Western  Palestine  have  been  almost  annihilated; 
with  the  exception  of  Jerusalem,  Hebron,  and  two  or  three 


ANCIENT  HOUSES. 


19 


others,  not  one  stone  has  been  left  upon  another.  In  some 
cases  we  can  scarcely  discover  the  exact  spot  where  a  noted 
city  stood,  so  complete  has  been  the  desolation.  Even  in 
Jerusalem  itself  only  a  very  few  vestiges  of  the  ancient 
buildings  remain :  the  Tower  of  David,  portions  of  the  wall 
of  the  Temple  area,  and  one  or  two  other  fragments, — just 
enough  to  form  the  subject  of  dispute  among  antiquaries. 
Zion  is  “  ploughed  like  a  field.”  I  have  seen  the  plough  at 
work  on  it,  and  with  the  hand  that  writes  these  lines  I  have 
plucked  ears  of  corn  in  the  fields  of  Zion.  I  have  pitched  my 
tent  on  the  site  of  ancient  Tyre,  and  searched,  but  searched 
in  vain,  for  a  single  trace  of  its  ruins.  Then,  but  not  till  then, 
did  I  realize  the  full  force  and  truth  of  the  prophetic  denun¬ 
ciation  upon  it :  “  Thou  shalt  be  sought  for,  yet  shalt  thou 
never  be  found  again ”  (Ezek.  xxvi.  21).  The  very  ruins  of 
Capernaum — that  city  which,  in  our  Lord’s  day,  was  “  exalted 
unto  heaven” — have  been  so  completely  obliterated,  that 
the  question  of  its  site  never  has  been,  and  probably  never 
will  be,  definitely  settled.  And  these  are  not  solitary  cases : 
Jericho  has  disappeared;  Bethel  is  “come  to  nought” 
(Amos  v.  5) ;  Samaria  is  “  as  an  heap  of  the  field,  as  plant¬ 
ings  of  a  vineyard”  (Micah  i.  6).  The  state  of  Bashan  is 
totally  different:  it  is  literally  crowded  with  towns  and 
large  villages;  and  though  the  vast  majority  of  them  are 
deserted,  they  are  not  ruined.  I  have  more  than  once 
entered  a  deserted  city  in  the  evening,  taken  possession  of  a 
comfortable  house,  and  spent  the  night  in  peace.  Many  of 
the  houses  in  the  ancient  cities  of  Bashan  are  perfect,  as  if 
only  finished  yesterday.  The  walls  are  sound,  the  roofs 
unbroken,  the  doors,  and  even  the  window-shutters  in  their 
places.  Let  not  my  readers  think  that  I  ain  transcribing  a 
passage  from  the  “  Arabian  Nights.”  I  am  relating  sober 
facts ;  I  am  simply  telling  what  I  have  seen,  and  what  I 
purpose  just  now  more  fully  to  describe.  “But  how,”  you 
ask  me,  “  can  we  account  for  the  preservation  of  ordinary 
dwellings  in  a  land  of  ruins  ?  If  one  of  our  modern  Eng- 


20 


BASH  AN"  AND  ITS  GIANT  CITIES. 


lish  cities  were  deserted  for  a  millennium,  there  would 
scarcely  be  a  fragment  of  a  wall  standing.”  The  reply  is 
easy  enough.  The  houses  of  Bashan  are  not  ordinary 
houses.  Their  walls  are  from  five  to  eight  feet  thick,  built 
of  large  squared  blocks  of  basalt ;  the  roofs  are  formed  of 
slabs  of  the  same  material,  hewn  like  planks,  and  reaching 
from  wall  to  wall ;  the  very  doors  and  window-shutters  are 
of  stone,  hung  upon  pivots  projecting  above  and  below. 
Some  of  these  ancient  cities  have  from  two  to  five  hundred 
houses  still  perfect,  but  not  a  man  to  dwell  in  them.  On 
one  occasion,  from  the  battlements  of  the  Castle  of  Salcah, 
I  counted  some  thirty  towns  and  villages,  dotting  the  sur¬ 
face  of  the  vast  plain,  many  of  them  almost  as  perfect  as 
when  they  were  built,  and  yet  for  more  than  five  centuries 
there  has  not  been  a  single  inhabitant  in  one  of  them.  It 
may  easily  be  imagined  with  what  feelings  I  read  on  that 
day,  and  on  that  spot,  the  remarkable  words  of  Moses: 
u  The  generation  to  come  of  your  children  that  shall  rise 
up  after  you,  and  the  stranger  that  shall  come  from  a  far 
land ,  shall  say  when  they  see  the  plagues  of  this  land,  even 
all  nations  shall  say,  Wherefore  hath  the  Lord  done  this 
unto  this  land  ?  what  meaneth  the  heat  of  this  great 
anger  ?” 

My  readers  are  now  prepared,  I  trust,  to  make  a  pleasant 
and  profitable  excursion  to  the  giant  cities  of  Bashan.  I 
shall  promise  not  to  make  too  large  a  demand  upon  their 
time  and  patience,  and  yet  to  give  them  a  tolerably  clear 
and  full  view  of  one  of  the  most  interesting  countries  in  the 
world. 

THE  CARAVAN. 

On  a  bright  and  balmy  morning  in  February,  a  party  of 
seven  cavaliers  defiled  from  the  East  Gate  of  Damascus, 
rode  for  half-an-hour  among  the  orchards  that  skirt  the  old 
city,  and  then,  turning  to  the  left,  struck  out,  along  a  broad 
beaten  path  through  the  open  fields,  in  a  south-easterly  di¬ 
rection.  The  leader  was  a  wild-looking  figure.  His  dress 


OUR  ARAB  GUIDE. 


21 


was  a  red  cotton  tunic  or  shirt,  fastened  round  the  waist  by 
a  broad  leathern  .girdle.  Over  it  was  a  loose  jacket  of 
dressed  sheepskin,  the  wool  inside.  His  feet  and  legs  were 
bare.  On  his  head  was  a  flame-coloured  handkerchief, 
fastened  above  by  a  coronet  of  black  camel’s  hair,  which 
left  the  ends  and  long  fringe  to  flow  over  his  shoulders. 
He  was  mounted  on  an  active,  shaggy  pony,  with  a  pad  for 
a  saddle,  and  a  hair  halter  for  a  bridle.  Before  him,  across 
the  back  of  his  little  steed,  he  carried  a  long  rifle,  his  only 
weapon.  Immediately  behind  him,  on  powerful  Arab 
horses,  were  three  men  in  Western  costume:  one  of  these 
was  the  writer.  Next  came  an  Arab,  who  acted  as  drag¬ 
oman  or  rather  courier ;  and  two  servants  on  stout  hacks 
brought  up  the  rear.  On  gaining  the  beaten  track,  our 
guide  struck  into  a  sharp  canter.  The  great  city  was  soon 
left  far  behind,  and,  on  turning,  we  could  see  its  tall  white 
minarets  shooting  up  from  the  sombre  foliage,  and  thrown 
into  bold  relief  by  the  dark  back-ground  of  Anti-Lebanon. 
The  plain  spread  out  on  each  side,  smooth  as  a  lake,  cov¬ 
ered  with  the  delicate  green  of  the  young  grain.  Here 
and  there  were  long  belts  and  large  clumps  of  dusky  olives, 
fr6lii  the  midst  of  which  rose  the  gray  towers  of  a  mosque 
or  the  white  dome  of  a  saint’s  tomb.  On  the  south  the 
plain  was  shut  in  by  a  ridge  of  black,  bare  hills,  appropri¬ 
ately  named  Jebel-el-Aswad,  utli€  Black  Mountains;”  while 
away  on  the  west,  in  the  distance,  Hermon  rose  in  all  its 
majesty,  a  pyramid  of  spotless  snow.  From  whatever  point 
one  sees  it,  there  are  few  landscapes  in  the  world  which, 
for  richness  and  soft  enchanting  beauty,  can  be  compared 
with  the  plain  of  Damascus.  i 

After  riding  about  seven  miles,  during  which  we  passed 
straggling  groups  of  men — some  on  foot,  some  on  horses  and 
donkeys,  and  some  on  camels,  most  of  them  dressed  like  our 
guide,  and  all  hurrying  on  in  the  same  direction  as  our- 
Reives — we  reached  the  eastern  extremity  of  the  Black 

'  '  ! '  ‘  ;  .  .  . •}  Cm  .  >  -  "• 

Mountains,  and  found  ourselves  bn  the  side  of  a  narrow  ofreeu 


22 


BASHAN  AND  ITS  GIANT  CITIES. 


vale,  through  the  centre  of  which  flows  the  river  Pharpar. 
A  bridge  here  spans  the  stream ;  and  beyond  it,  in  the  rich 
meadows,  the  Sauran  Caravan  was  being  marshalled.  Up 
to  this  point  the  road  is  safe,  and  may  be  travelled  almost  at 
any  time;  but  on  crossing  the  Awaj,  we  enter  the  domains 
of  the  Bedawin,  whose  law  is  the  sword,  and  whose  right  is 
might.  Our  further  progress  was  liable  to  be  disputed  at  any 
moment.  The  attacks  of  the  Bedawin,  when  made,  are  sud¬ 
den  and  impetuous ;  and  resistance,  to  be  effectual,  must  be 
prompt  and  decided.  During  the  winter  season,  this  eastern 
route  is  in  general  pretty  secure,  as  the  Arab  tribes  have  their 
encampments  far  distant  on  the  banks  of  the  Euphrates,  or  in 
the  interior  of  the  desert ;  but  the  war  between  the  Druses 
and  the  government,  which  had  just  been  concluded,  had 
drawn  these  daring  marauders  from  their  customary  haunts, 
and  they  endured  the  rain  and  cold  of  the  Syrian  frontier  in 
the  hope  of  plunder.  All  seemed  fully  aware  of  this,  and  ap¬ 
peared  to  feel,  here  as  elsewhere,  that  the  hand  of  the  Xsh- 
maelite  is  against  every  man.  Consequently,  stragglers  hur¬ 
ried  up  and  fell  into  the  ranks ;  bales  and  packages  on  mules 
and  camels  were  re-arranged  and  more  carefully  adjusted ; 
muskets  and  pistols  were  examined,  and  cartridges  got  into 
a  state  of  readiness ;  armed  men  were  placed  in  something  like 
order  along  the  sides  of  the  file  of  animals ;  and  a  few  horse¬ 
men  were  sent  on  in  front,  to  scour  the  neighboring  hills  and 
the  skirts  of  the  great  plain  beyond,  so  as  to  prevent  surprise. 
A  number  of  Druses  who  here  joined  the  caravan,  and  who 
were  easily  distinguished  by  their  snow-white  turbans,  and 
bold,  manly  bearing,  appeared  to  take  the  chief  direction 
in  these  warlike  preparations,  though,  as  the  caravan  was 
mainly  made  up  of  Christians,  one  of  themselves,  called 
Musa,  was  the  nominal  leader.  It  was  a  strange  and  excit¬ 
ing  scene,  and  one  would  have  thought  that  any  attempt 
to  reduce  such  a  refractory  and  heterogeneous  multitude  of 
men  and  animals  to  anything  like  order  would  be  absolute¬ 
ly  useless.  Some  of  the  camels  and  donkeys  breaking  loose, 


STARTING  OF  THE  CARAVAN. 


23 


scattered  their  loads  over  the  plain,  and  spread  confusion 
all  round  them ;  others  growled,  and  kicked,  and  brayed ; 
drivers  shouted  and  gesticulated ;  men  and  boys  ran  through 
the  crowd,  asking  for  missing  brothers  or  companions ;  horse¬ 
men  galloped  from  group  to  group,  entreating  and  threaten¬ 
ing  by  turns.  At  length,  however,  the  order  was  given  to 
march.  It  passed  along  from  front  to  rear,  and  the  next 
moment  every  sound  was  hushed ;  the  very  beasts  seemed  to 
comprehend  its  meaning,  for  they  fell  quietly  into  their 
places,  and  the  long  files,  now  four  and  five  abreast,  began 
to  move  over  the  grassy  plain  with  a  stillness  which  was 
almost  painful. 

Leaving  the  fertile  valley  of  the  Pharpar,  and  crossing  a 
low,  bleak  ridge,  we  entered  one  of  the  dreariest  regions  I 
had  hitherto  seen  in  Syria.  A  reach  of  rolling  table-land 
extended  for  several  miles  on  each  side — shut  in  on  the 
right  by  black  hills,  and  on  the  left,  by  bare  rugged  banks. 
"Net  a  house,  nor  a  tree,  nor  a  green  shrub,  nor  a  living 
creature,  was  within  the  range  of  vision.  Loose  black 
stones  and  boulders  of  basalt  were  strewn  thickly  over  the 
whole  surface,  and  here  and  there  thrown  into  rude  heaps ; 
but  whether  by  the  hand  of  man,  or  by  some  freak  of  nature, 
seemed  doubtful.  For  nearly  two  hours  we  wound  our 
weary  way  through  this  wilderness ;  now  listening  to  the 
stories  of  Musa,  and  now  following  him  to  the  top  of  some 
hillock,  in  the  hope  of  getting  a  peep  at  a  more  inviting 
landscape.  At  length  we  came  to  the  brow  of  a  short  de¬ 
scent  leading  into  a  green  meadow,  with  the  traces  of  an 
old  camp  at  one  side  round  a  little  fountain,  near  which 
were  some  tombs  with  rude  headstones.  We  were  told  that 
this  is  a  favourite  camping-ground  of  the  Anezeh  during  the 
spring.  Immediately  beyond  the  meadow  a  plain  opened 
before  us,  stretching  on  the  east  and  west  as  far  as  the  eye 
could  see,  and  southward  reaching  to  the  base  of  the  Hau- 
raii  mountains.  It  is  flat  as  a  lake,  covered  with  deep,  rich, 

black  soil,  without  rock  or  stone,  and,  even  at  this  early  sea- 
2 


24 


BASHAN  AN D  ITS  GIAN1  CITIES. 


son,  giving  promise  of  luxuriant  pasturage.  Some  conical 
tells  are  seen  at  intervals,  rising  up  from -it  s  smooth  surface, 
like  rocky  islets  in  the  ocean.  This  is  the  plain  of  Bashan, 
and  though  now  desolate  and  forsaken,  it  showed  us  how 
rich  were  the  resources  of  that  old  kingdom. 

With  increased  speed — but  still  in  the  deepest  silence — 
the  caravan  swept  onward  over  this  noble  plain.  W e  could 
scarcely  distinguish  any  track,  though  Musa  assured  us  we 
were  on  the  Sultany,  or  “  king’s  highway.”  It  seemed  to  us 
that  his  course  was  directed  by  a  conical  hill  away  on  the 
southern  horizon,  rather  than  by  any  trace  of  a  road  on  the 
plain  itself.  As  we  advanced,  we  began  to  notice  a  black 
line  extending  across  the  plain  in  the  distance  in  front. 
Gradually  it  became  more  and  more  defined,  and,  ere  day¬ 
light  waned,  it  seemed  like  a  Cyclopean  wall  built  in  some 
bygone  age,  and  afterwards  shattered  by  an  earthquake. 
Biding  up  to  Musa,  I  asked  what  it  was.  “  That,”  said  he, 
“is  the  LejaJi .”  Lejah  is  the  name  now  given  to  the  an¬ 
cient  province  of  Trachonitis;  and  this  bank  of  shattered 
rocks  turned  out  to  be  its  northern  border.  The  Lejah,  as 
we  shall  see  hereafter,  is  a  vast  field  of  basalt,  placed  in  the 
midst  of  the  fertile  plain  of  Bashan.  Its  surface  has  an  ele¬ 
vation  of  some  thirty  feet  above  the  plain,  and  its  border  is 
everywhere  as  clearly  defined  by  the  broken  cliffs  as  any 
shore-line.  In  fact,  it  strongly  reminded  me  of  some  parts 
of  the  coast  of  Jersey.  And  this  remarkable  feature  ha^not 
been  overlooked  in  the  topography  of  the  Bible.  Lejah,  my 
readers  will  remember,  corresponds  to  the  ancient  Argob. 
Now,  in  every  instance  in  which  that  province  is  mentioned 
by  the  sacred  historians,  there  is  one  descriptive  word  at¬ 
tached  to  it  —  chebel ;  which  our  translators  have  unfortu¬ 
nately  rendered  in  one  passage  “  region,”  and  in  another, 
“country”  (Deut.  iii.  4,  13,  14;  .1  Kings  iv.  13),  but  which 
means  “  a  sharply  defined  border,  as  if  measured  off  by  a 
rope ”  (chebel);  and  it  thus  describes,  with  singular  accuracy 
and  minuteness,  the  rocky  rampart  which  encircles  the  Lejah. 


THE  HALT  OF  THE  CARAVAN. 


25 


THE  DESERTED  CITY. 

The  sun  went  down,  and  the  short  twilight  was  made 
shorter  by  heavy  clouds  which  drifted  across  the  face  of  the 
sky.  A  thick  rain  began  to  fall,  which  made  the  prospect  of 
a  night  march  or  a  bivouac  equally  unpleasant.  Still  I  rode 
on  through  the  darkness,  striving  to  dispel  gloomy  forebod¬ 
ings  by  the  stirring  memory  of  Bashan’s  ancient  glory,  and 
the  thought  that  I  was  now  treading  its  soil,  and  on  my  way 
to  the  great  cities  founded  and  inhabited  four  thousand 
years  ago  by  the  giant  Rephaim.  Before  the  darkness  set 
in,  Musa  had  pointed  out  to  me  the  towers  of  three  or  four 
of  these  cities  rising  above  the  rocky  barrier  of  the  Lejah. 
How  I  strained  my  eyes  in  vain  to  pierce  the  deepening  gloom ! 
Row  I  knew  that  some  of  them  must  be  close  at  hand.  The 
sharp  ring  of  my  horse’s  feet  on  pavement  startled  me. 
This  was  followed  by  painful  stumbling  over  loose  stones, 
and  the  twisting  of  his  limbs  among  jagged  rocks.  The  sky 
was  black  overhead ;  the  ground  black  beneath ;  the  rain 
was  drifting  in  my  face,  so  that  nothing  could  be  seen.  A 
halt  was  called ;  and  it  was  with  no  little  pleasure  I  heard 
the  order  given  for  the  caravan  to  rest  till  the  moon  rose. 
“  Is  there  any  spot,”  I  asked  of  an  Arab  at  my  side,  “  where 
we  could  get  shelter  from  the  rain  ?  ”  “  There  is  a  house 

ready  for  you,”  he  answered.  “  A  house  !  Is  there  a  house 
here  ?  ”  “  Hundreds  of  them ;  this  is  the  town  of  Burak.” 

We  were  conducted  up  a  rugged  winding  path,  which 
seemed,  so  far  as  we  could  make  out  in  the  dark  and  by  the 
motion  of  our  horses,  to  be  something  like  a  ruinous  stair¬ 
case.  At  length  the  dark  outline  of  high  walls  began  to  ap¬ 
pear  against  the  sky,  and  presently  we  entered  a  paved 
street.  Here  we  were  told  to  dismount  and  give  our  horses 
to  the  servants.  An  Arab  struck  a  light,  and,  inviting  us 
to  follow,  passed  through  a  low,  gloomy  door,  into  a  spacious 
chamber. 

I  looked  with  no  little  interest  round  the  apartment  of 


26 


BASH  AN  AND  ITS  GIANT  CITIES. 


which  we  had  taken  such  unceremonious  possession ;  but  the 
light  was  so  dim,  and  the  walls,  roof,  and  floor  so  black,  that 
I  could  make  out  nothing  satisfactorily.  Getting  a  torch 
from  one  of  the  servants  I  lighted  it,  and  proceeded  to  examine 
the  mysterious  mansion ;  for,  though  drenched  with  rain,  and 
wearied  with  a  twelve  hours’  ride,  I  could  not  rest.  I  felt 
an  excitement  such  as  I  never  before  had  experienced.  I 
could  scarcely  believe  in  the  reality  of  what  I  saw,  and  what 
I  heard  from  my  guides  in  reply  to  eager  questions.  The 
house  seemed  to  have  undergone  little  change  from  the  time 
its  old  master  had  left  it ;  and  yet  the  thick  nitrous  crust  on 
the  floor  showed  that  it  had  been  deserted  for  long  ages. 
The  wails  were  perfect,  nearly  five  feet  thick,  built  of  large 
blocks  of  hewn  stones,  without  lime  or  cement  of  any  kind. 
The  roof  was  formed  of  large  slabs  of  the  same  black  basalt, 
lying  as  regularly,  and  jointed  as  closely  as  if  the  workmen 
had  only  just  completed  them.  They  measured  twelve  feet 
in  length,  eighteen  inches  in  breadth,  and  six  inches  in  thick¬ 
ness.  The  ends  rested  on  a  plain  stone  cornice,  projecting 
about  a  foot  from  each  side  wall.  The  chamber  was  twenty 
feet  long,  twelve  wide,  and  ten  high.  The  outer  door  was 
a  slab  of  stone,  four  and  a  half  feet  high,  four  wide,  and 
eight  inches  thick.  It  hung  upon  pivots  formed  of  project¬ 
ing  parts  of  the  slab,  working  in  sockets  in  the  lintel  and 
threshold ;  and  though  so  massive,  I  was  able  to  open  and 
shut  it  with  ease.  At  one  end  of  the  room  was  a  small  win¬ 
dow  with  a  stone  shutter.  An  inner  door,  also  of  stone,  but 
of  finer  workmanship,  and  not  quite  so  heavy  as  the  other, 
admitted  to  a  chamber  of  the  same  size  and  appearance. 
From  it  a  much  larger  door  communicated  with  a  third 
chamber,  to  which  there  was  a  descent  by  a  flight  of  stone 
steps.  This  was  a  spacious  hall,  equal  in  width  to  the  two 
rooms,  and  about  twenty-five  feet  long  by  twenty  high.  A 
semicircular  arch  was  thrown  across  it,  supporting  the  stone 
roof;  and  a  gate  so  large  that  camels  could  pass  in  and  out, 
opened  on  the  street.  The  gate  was  of  stone,  and  in  its 


THE  DESERTED  CITY. 


27 


place ;  but  some  rubbish  had  accumulated  on  the  threshold, 
and  it  apjjeared  to  have  been  open  for  ages.  Here  our 
horses  were  comfortably  installed.  Such  were  the  internal 
arrangements  of  this  strange  old  mansion.  It  had  only  one 
story ;  and  its  simple,  massive  style  of  architecture  gave  ev¬ 
idence  of  a  very  remote  antiquity.  On  a  large  stone  which 
formed  the  lintel  of  the  gateway,  there  was  a  Greek  inscrip¬ 
tion  ;  but  it  was  so  high  up,  and  my  light  so  faint,  that  I  was 
unable  to  decipher  it,  though  I  could  see  that  the  letters 
were  of  the  oldest  type.  It  is  probably  the  same  which  was 
copied  by  Burckhardt,  and  which  bears  a  date  apparently 
equivalent  to  the  year  b.c.  306  ! 

Owing  to  the  darkness  of  the  night  and  the  shortness  of 
our  stay,  I  was  unable  to  ascertain  from  personal  observa¬ 
tion,  either  the  extent  of  Burak,  or  the  general  character  of 
its  buildings  ;  but  the  men  who  gathered  round  me,  when  I 
returned  to  my  chamber,  had  often  visited  it.  They  said 
the  houses  were  all  like  the  one  we  occupied,  only  some 
smaller,  and  a  few  larger,  and  that  there  were  no  great 
buildings.  Burak  stands  on  the  north-east  comer  of  the  Le- 
jah,  and  was  thus  one  of  the  frontier  towns  of  ancient  Ar- 
gob.  It  is  built  upon  rocks,  and  encompassed  by  rocks  so 
wild  and  rugged  as  to  render  it  a  natural  fortress. 

After  a  few  hours’  rest,  the  order  for  march  was  again 
given.  We  found  our  horses  at  the  door,  and  mounting  at 
once  we  followed  Musa.  The  rain  had  ceased,  the  sky  was 
clear,  and  the  moon  shone  brightly,  half  revealing  the  sav¬ 
age  features  of  the  environs  of  Burak.  I  can  never  forget 
that  scene.  Huge  masses  of  shapeless  rock  rose  up  here  and 
there  among  and  around  the  houses,  to  the  height  of  fifteen 
and  twenty  feet — their  summits  jagged,  and  their  sides  all 
shattered.  Between  them  were  pits  and  yawning  fissures, 
as  many  feet  in  depth ;  while  the  flat  surfaces  of  naked  rock 
were  thickly  strewn  with  huge  boulders  of  basalt.  The  nar¬ 
row  tortuous  road  by  which  Musa  led  us  out  was  in  places  car¬ 
ried  over  chasms,  and  in  places  cut  through  cliffs.  An  an- 


28 


BASHAN  AND  ITS  GIANT  CITIES. 


cient  aqueduct  ran  alongside  of  it,  which,  in  former  days, 
conveyed  a  supply  of  water  from  a  neighbouring  winter 
stream  to  the  tanks  and  reservoirs  from  which  the  town  gets 
its  present  name,  Burak  (“the  tanks”).  A  slow  but  fatigu¬ 
ing  ride  of  an  hour  brought  us  out  of  this  labyrinth  of  rocks 
and  over  a  torrent  bed  into  a  fine  plain.  We  soon  after 
passed  the  caravan,  which  had  started  some  time  before  us ; 
and,  as  there  was  no  danger  to  be  apprehended,  we  contin¬ 
ued  at  a  rapid  pace  southward.  The  dawn  of  morning 
showed  us  the  rugged  features  and  rocky  border  of  the  Le- 
jah  close  upon  our  right,  thickly  studded  with  old  towns 
and  villages ;  while  upon  our  left  a  fertile  plain  stretched 
away  to  the  horizon.  And  here  we  observed  with  surprise, 
that  there  was  not  a  trace  of  human  habitation,  except  on 
the  tops  of  the  little  conical  hills  which  rise  up  at  long  inter¬ 
vals.  This  plain  is  the  home  of  the  Ishmaelite,  who  has 
always  dwelt  “  in  the  presence  (literally,  in  the  face)  of  his 
brethren”  (Gen.  xvi.  12),  and  against  whose  bold  incursions 
there  never  has  been  any  effectual  barrier  except  the  muni¬ 
tions  of  rocks  and  the  heights  of  hills. 

We  rode  on.  The  hills  of  Bashan  were  close  in  front; 
their  summits  clothed  with  oak  forests,  and  their  sides 
studded  with  old  towns.  As  we  ascended  them,  the  rock- 
fields  of  the  Lejah  were  spread  out  on  the  right ;  and  there, 
too,  the  ancient  cities  were  thickly  planted.  Not  less  than 
A  thirty  of  the  threescore  cities  of  Argob  were  in  view  at  one 
time  on  that  day ;  their  black  houses  and  ruins  half  concealed 
by  the  black  rocks  amid  which  they  are  built,  and  their 
massive  towers  rising  up  here  and  there  like  the  “  keeps  ”  of 
old  Norman  fortresses.  How  we  longed  to  visit  and  ex¬ 
plore  them.  But  political  reasons  made  it  necessary  we 
should,  in  the  first  place,  pay  our  respects  to  one  of  the 
leading  Druse  chiefs.  On  them  depended  the  success  of  our 
future  researches.  Without  their  protection  we  could  not 
ride  in  safety  a  single  mile  through  Hauran.  I  felt  confi¬ 
dent  that  protection  would  be  cheerfully  granted;  still  I 


SCENERY  OF  BASHAN. 


29 


thought  it  best  not  to  draw  the  bridle  until  we  reached  the 
town  of  Hiyat,  from  whence,  after  a  short  pause  to  drink 
coffee  with  the  Sheikh,  who  would  not  let  us  pass,  we  rode 
to  the  residence  of  Assad  Amer,  at  Hit,  where  we  met  with 
a  reception  worthy  of  the  hospitality  of  the  old  patriarchs. 


II. 

**Once  more  we  look,  and  all  is  still  as  night. 

All  desolate  !  Groves,  temples,  palaces, 

Swept  from  the  sight :  and  nothing  visible, 

. save  here  and  there 

An  empty  tomb,  a  fragment  like  a  limb 
Of  some  dismembered  giant.” 

SCENERY  OF  BASHAN. 

With  the  first  dawn  of  the  new  morning,  I  went  up  to  the 
flat  roof  of  Sheikh  Assad’s  house.  The  house  is  in  the  high¬ 
est  part  of  the  town,  and  commands  a  wide  view  of  the 
northern  section  of  the  mountain  range  and  of  the  surround¬ 
ing  plain.  The  sky  was  cloudless,  and  of  that  deep  dark 
blue  which  one  never  sees  in  this  land  of  clouds  and  haze. 
The  rain  of  the  preceding  day  had  cleared  the  atmosphere, 
and  rendered  it  transparent  as  crystal.  The  sun  was  not 
yet  up,  but  his  beams  shed  a  rich  glow  over  the  whole  east¬ 
ern  sky,  making  it  gleam  like  burnished  gold,  and  throwing 
out  into  bold  relief  a  ridge  of  wood-clad  peaks  that  here 
shut  in  the  view.  From  the  base  of  the  mountain  on  the 
north,  a  smooth  plain,  already  green  with  young  grass,  ex¬ 
tended  away  beyond  the  range  of  vision,  dotted  here  and 
there  with  conical  tells,  on  whose  tops  were  the  remains  of 
ancient  fortresses  and  villages.  But  on  the  west  lay  the  ob¬ 
jects  of  chief  interest ;  the  widespread  rock-fields  of  Argob, 
the  rich  pasture-lands  of  Bashan  encircling  them,  and  run¬ 
ning  away  in  one  unbroken  expanse  to  the  base  of  Hermon, 


30 


BASHAN  AND  ITS  GIANT  CITIES. 


Long  and  intently  did  my  eyes  dwell  on  that  magnificent 
landscape.  Now,  the  strange  old  cities  rivetted  my  atten¬ 
tion,  rising  up  in  gloomy  grandeur  from  the  sea  of  rocks. 
Now  the  great  square  towers  and  castellated  heights  and 
tells  along  the  rugged  border  of  Argob  were  minutely  ex¬ 
amined  by  the  help  of  a  powerful  glass ;  and  now  the  eye 
wandered  eagerly  over  the  plain  beyond,  noting  one,  and 
another,  and  another  of  those  dark  cities  that  stud  it  so 
thickly.  On  the  western  horizon  rose  Hermon,  a  spotless 
pyramid  of  snow ;  and  from  it,  northward,  ran  the  serried, 
snow-capped  ridge  of  “Lebanon  toward  the  sun-rising” 
(Josh.  xiii.  5).  As  I  looked  on  that  western  barrier  of  Ba- 
shan,  the  first  sunbeams  touched  the  crest  of  Hermon ;  and 
as  they  touched  it,  its  icy  crown  glistened  like  polished 
steel,  reminding  me  how  strikingly  descriptive  was  the 
name  given  to  that  mountain  by  the  Amorites  —  Shenir , 
the  “  breastplate,”  or  “  shield”  (Deut.  iii.  9). 

For  an  hour  or  more  I  sat  rapt  in  the  contemplation  of  the 
wide  and  wondrous  panorama.  At  least  a  thousand  square 
miles  of  Og’s  ancient  kingdom  were  spread  out  before  me. 
There  was  the  country  whose  “giant”  ( Rephaim ,  Gen. 
xiv.)  inhabitants  the  eastern  kings  smote  before  they  de¬ 
scended  into  the  plains  of  Sodom.  There  were  those  “  three 
score  great  cities  ”  of  Argob,  whose  “  walls,  and  gates,  and 
brazen  bars  ”  were  noted  with  surprise  by  Moses  and  the 
Israelites,  and  whose  Cyclopean  architecture  and  massive 
stone  gates  even*  now  fill  the  western  traveller  with  amaze¬ 
ment,  and  give  his  simplest  descriptions  much  of  the  charm 
and  strangeness  of  romance.  So  clear  was  the  air  that  the 
outline  of  the  most  distant  objects  was  sharp  and  distinct. 
Hermon  itself,  though  forty  miles  away,  did  not  seem  more 
than  eight  or  ten,  when  the  sun  embossed  its  furrowed  sides 
with  light  and  shade. 

I  was  at  length  roused  from  a  pleasing  reverie  by  the 
deep  voice  of  Sheikh  Assad  giving  a  cordial  and  truly  patri¬ 
archal  salutation. 


THE  BEDAWIN. 


31 


“  What  a  glorious  view  you  have  from  this  commanding 
spot !  ”  I  said,  when  the  compliments  were  over. 

“Yes,  we  can  see  the  Bedawin  at  a  great  distance,  and 
have  time  to  prepare  for  them,”  was  his  characteristic  re- 

p!y. 

“  What !  do  the  desert  tribes,  then,  trouble  you  here ;  and 
do  they  even  venture  to  plunder  the  Druses  ?” 

“Not  a  spot  of  border  land  from  Wady  Musa  to  Aleppo 
is  safe  from  their  raids,  and  Druses,  Moslems,  and  Christ¬ 
ians  are  alike  to  them.  In  fact,  their  hand  is  against  all. 
When  the  Anezeh  come  up  in  spring,  their  flocks  cover 
that  plain  like  locusts,  and  were  it  not  for  our  rifles  they 
would  not  leave  us  a  hoof  nor  a  blade  of  corn.  To-day 
their  horsemen  pillage  a  village  here;  to-morrow,  another 
in  the  Ghutah  of  Sham  (Damascus) ;  and  the  day  following 
they  strip  the  Baghdad  caravan.  Oh,  my  lord  !  these  sons  of 
Ishmael  are  fleet  as  gazelles,  and  fierce  as  leopards.  Would 
Allah  only  rid  us  of  them  and  the  Turks,  Syria  might 
prosper.” 

The  Sheikh  described  the  Arabs  to  the  life,  just  as  they 
were  described  by  the  spirit  of  prophecy  nearly  four  thou¬ 
sand  years  ago.  “  He  (Ishmael)  shall  be  a  wild  man ;  his 
hand  against  every  man,  and  every  man’s  hand  against 
him  ;  and  he  shall  dwell  in  the  presence  of  all  his  brethren” 
(Gen.  xvi.  12).  These  “children  of  the  east”  come  up  now 
as  they  did  in  Gideon’s  days,  when  “  they  destroyed  the  in¬ 
crease  of  the  earth,  and  left  no  sustenance  for  Israel,  neither 
sheep,  nor  ox,  nor  ass.  For  they  came  up  with  their  cat¬ 
tle  and  their  tents,  and  they  came  as  grasshoppers  for  mul¬ 
titude  ;  both  they  and  their  camels  were  without  number ; 
and  they  entered  into  the  land  to  destroy  it”  (Judges  vi. 
4,  5).  During  the  course  of  another  tour  through  the  west¬ 
ern  part  of  Bashan,  I  rode  in  one  day  for  more  than  twenty 
miles  in  a  straight  course  through  the  flocks  of  an  Arab 
tribe. 

On  remarking  to  the  Sheikh  the  great  number  of  old 


32 


BASHAN  AND  ITS  GIANT  CITIES. 


cities  in  view,  he  pointed  out  to  me  the  largest  and  most 
remarkable  of  them ;  and  among  these  I  heard  with  no  little 
interest,  the  name  of  Edrei,  the  ancient  capital  of  Bashan, 
and  the  residence  of  Og,  the  last  of  its  giant  kings.  Others 
there  were  too,  such  as  Shuka,  and  Bathanyeh,  and  Mus- 
mieh,  whose  names,  as  we  shall  see,  are  not  unknown  in 
history. 

From  a  general  survey  of  the  country  I  turned  to  an  ex¬ 
amination  of  the  town.  Hit  is  in  form  rectangular,  and 
about  a  mile  and  a  half  in  circumference.  I  traced  most 
of  the  old  streets,  though  now  in  a  great  measure  filled  up 
with  fallen  houses  and  heaps  of  rubbish,  the  accumulations 
of  long  centuries.  The  streets  were  narrow  and  irregular, 
and  thus  widely  different  from  those  laid  out  in  many  other 
cities  in  this  land  by  Roman  architects.  A  large  portion 
of  the  town  is  ruinous ;  but  some  of  the  very  oldest  houses 
are  still  perfect.  They  are  simple  and  massive  in  style, 
containing  only  one  story,  and  generally  two  or  three  large 
rooms  opening  on  an  enclosed  court.  The  walls  are  built 
of  large  stones  roughly  hewn,  though  closely  jointed,  and 
laid  without  cement.  The  roofs  are  formed  of  long  slabs 
placed  horizontally  from  wall  to  wall ;  thus  forming  the  flat 
“  house  tops,”  where  the  people  are  now  accustomed  to  sit 
and  pray,  just  as  they  were  in  Hew  Testament  times.  In¬ 
deed,  the  “  house-top”  is  the  favourite  prayer-place  of  Mo¬ 
hammedans  in  Syria  (see  Acts  x.  9 ;  Matt.  xxiv.  1 7 ;  Isa. 
xv.  3 ;  Zeph.  i.  5).  The  doors  are  stone,  and  I  saw  many 
tastefully  ornamented  with  panels  and  garlands  of  fruit 
and  flowers  sculptured  in  relief.  There  is  not  a  single  new , 
or  even  modern ,  house  in  Hit.  The  Druses  have  taken 
possession  and  settled  down  without  any  attempt  at  alter¬ 
ation  or  addition.  Those  now  occupied  are  evidently  of 
the  most  remote  antiquity,  and  not  more  than  half  of  the 
habitable  dwellings  are  inhabited.  I  saw  the  remains  of 
several  Greek  or  Roman  temples,  and  a  considerable  num¬ 
ber  of  Greek  inscriptions  on  the  old  houses,  and  on  loose 


AQUEDUCTS. 


33 


stones.  The  inscriptions  have  no  historic  value,  being 
chiefly  votive  and  memorial  tablets:  two  of  them  have 
dates  corresponding  to  a.d.  120,  and  a.d.  208.  Nothing  is 
known  of  the  history  of  Hit ;  we  cannot  even  tell  its  an¬ 
cient  name ;  but  its  position,  the  character  of  its  houses  and 
of  its  old  massive  ramparts,  seem  to  warrant  the  conclusion 
that  it  was  one  of  those  “  three  score  great  cities”  which 
Jail*  captured  in  Argob  (Deut.  iii.  4,  14). 

The  news  of  our  arrival  had  already  reached  Sheikh 
Fares,  the  elder  brother  of  our  host,  and  one  of  the  most 
powerful  chiefs  in  Hauran.  While  we  sat  at  breakfast  a 
messenger  arrived  with  an  urgent  request  that  we  should 
visit  him  and  spend  the  night  at  his  house  in  Shuhba.  We 
gladly  consented ;  and  as  that  town  is  only  four  miles  south 
of  Hit,  we  resolved  to  employ  the  day  in  exploring  the 
northern  section  of  the  mountain  range.  Our  horses  were 
soon  at  the  door.  Sheikh  Assad  supplied  an  active,  intel¬ 
ligent,  and  well-mounted  guide,  and  his  own  nephew,  a 
noble-looking  youth  of  one-and-twenty,  volunteered  his 
services  as  escort.  Mounting  at  once,  amid  the  respectful 
salams  of  a  crowd  of  white-turbaned  Druses,  we  rode  off 
northward  in  the  track  of  an  old  Roman  road.  Finely-cul¬ 
tivated  fields  skirted  our  path  for  some  distance,  already 
green  with  young  wheat,  and  giving  promise  of  luxuriance 
such  as  is  seldom  seen  in  Palestine.  The  day  was  bright 
and  cool,  the  ground  firm  and  smooth,  our  horses  fresh,  and 
our  own  spirits  high.  Our  new  companions,  too,  were 
eager  to  display  the  mettle  of  their  steeds,  and  their  unri¬ 
valled  skill  in  horsemanship.  So,  loosening  the  rein,  we 
dashed  across  the  gentle  slopes,  and  only  drew  bridle  on 
reaching  Bathanyeh,  about  four  miles  from  Hit.  Along  our 
route  for  a  mile  and  more,  we  observed  the  opening  of  a 
subterranean  aqueduct,  intended  in  former  days  to  supply 
the  city  with  water.  Such  aqueducts  are  common  on  the 
eastern  border  of  Syria  and  Palestine,  especially  in  Hauran 
and  the  plain  of  Damascus.  They  appear  to  have  been  con- 


34 


BASHAN  AND  ITS  GIANT  CITIES. 


structed  as  follows : — A  shaft  was  sunk  to  the  depth  of  from 
ten  to  twenty  feet,  at  a  spot  where  it  was  supposed  water 
might  he  found;  then  a  tunnel  was  excavated  on  the  level 
of  the  bottom  of  the  shaft,  and  in  the  direction  of  the  town 
to  be  supplied.  At  a  distance  of  about  a  hundred  yards 
another  shaft  was  sunk,  connecting  the  tunnel  with  the  sur¬ 
face  ;  and  so  the  work  was  carried  on  until  it  was  brought 
close  to  the  city,  where  a  great  reservoir  was  made.  Some 
of  these  aqueducts  are  nearly  twenty  miles  in  length ;  and 
even  though  no  living  spring  should  exist  along  their  whole 
course,  they  soon  collect  in  the  rainy  season  sufficient  sur¬ 
face  water  to  supply  the  largest  reservoirs.  Springs  are 
rare  in  Bashan.  It  is  a  thirsty  land ;  but  cisterns  of  enor¬ 
mous  dimensions — some  open,  others  covered — are  seen  in 
every  city  and  village.  It  was  doubtless  by*  some  such 
“conduit”  as  this  that  Hezekiah  took  water  into  Jerusalem 
from  the  upper  spring  of  Gihon  (2  Kings  xx.  20). 

ANCIENT  CITIES. 

Scrambling  through,  or  rather  over,  a  ruinous  gateway, 
we  entered  the  city  of  Bathanyeh.  A  wide  street  lay  be¬ 
fore  us,  the  pavement  perfect,  the  houses  on  each  side 
standing,  streets  and  lanes  branching  off  to  the  right  and 
left.  There  was  something  inexpressibly  mournful  in  riding 
along  that  silent  street,  and  looking  in  through  half-open 
doors  to  one  after  another  of  those  desolate  houses,  with  the 
rank  grass  and  weeds  in  their  courts,  and  the  brambles 
growing  in  festoons  over  the  doorways,  and  branches  of 
trees  shooting  through  the  gaping  rents  in  the  old  walls. 
The  ring  of  our  horses’  feet  on  the  pavement  awakened  the 
echoes  of  the  city,  and  startled  many  a  strange  tenant. 
Owls  flapped  their  wings  round  the  gray  towers;  daws 
shrieked  as  they  flew  away  from  the  house-tops ;  foxes  ran 
out  and  in  among  shattered  dwellings,  and  two  jackals 
rushed  from  an  open  door,  and  scampered  off  along  the 
street  before  us.  The  graphic  language  of  Isaiah,  uttered 


CITY  OF  BATH  ANY  EH. 


35 


regarding  another  city,  but  vividly  descriptive  of  desola¬ 
tion  in  any  place,  came  up  at  once  to  my  mind  and  to  my 
lips : — “  Wild  beasts  of  the  desert  shall  lie  there ;  and  their 
houses  shall  be  full  of  doleful  creatures;  and  owls  shall 
dwell  there,  and  satyrs  shall  dance  there”  (Isa.  xiii.  21). 

Bathanyeh  stands  on  the  northern  declivity  of  the  mount¬ 
ains  of  Bashan,  and  commands  a  view  of  the  boundless 
plain  towards  the  lakes  of  Damascus.  About  a  mile  and  a 
half  to  the  north-west  I  saw  two  large  villages  close  to¬ 
gether.  Two  miles  further,  on  the  top  of  a  high  tell,  were 
the  ruins  of  a  town,  which,  my  guides  said,  are  both  exten¬ 
sive  and  beautiful.  Three  other  towns  were  visible  in  the 
plain,  and  two  on  the  slopes  eastward.  How  we  wished  to 
visit  these  !  but  time  would  not  permit.  From  this,  as  from 
every  other  point  where  I  reached  the  limits  of  my  pre¬ 
scribed  tour,  I  turned  aside  with  regret ;  because  away  be¬ 
yond,  the  eye  rested  on  enticing  ruins,  and  unexplored 
towns  and  villages. 

Bathanyeh  is  not  quite  so  large  as  Hit,  but  the  buildings 
are  of  a  superior  character  and  in  much  better  preserva¬ 
tion.  One  of  the  houses  in  which  I  rested  for  a  time  might 
almost  be  termed  a  palace.  A  spacious  gateway,  with 
massive  folding-doors  of  stone,  opened  from  the  street  into 
a  large  court.  On  the  left  was  a  square  tower  some  forty 
feet  in  height.  Hound  the  court,  and  opening  into  it,  were 
the  apartments,  all  in  perfect  preservation;  and  yet  the 
place  does  not  seem  to  have  been  inhabited  for  centuries. 
Greek  inscriptions  on  the  principal  buildings  prove  that 
they  existed  at  the  commencement  of  our  era ;  and  in  the 
whole  town  I  did  not  see  a  solitary  trace  of  Mohammedan 
occupation,  so  that  it  has  probably  been  deserted  for  at 
least  a  thousand  years.  The  name  at  once  suggests  its 
identity  with  JBatanis ,  one  of  the  thirty-four  ecclesiastical 
cities  of  Arabia,  whose  bishops  were  in  the  fifth  century 
suffragans  of  the  primate  of  Bostra.  Batanis  was  the  ca¬ 
pital  of  the  Greek  province  of  Batansea,  a  part  of  the  te« 


36 


BASH  AN  AND  ITS  GIANT  CITIES. 


trarchy  of  Philip,  mentioned  by  Josephus,  but  included  by 
Luke  (iii.  1)  in  the  “region  of  Trachonitis.”  The  region 
round  it  is  still  called  “the  Land  of  Batanea;”  and  the 
name  is  interesting  as  a  modern  representative  of  the 
Scriptural  JSashan. 

Turning  away  from  this  interesting  place,  we  rode  along 
the  mountain  side  eastward  to  Shuka,  four  miles  distant. 
This  is  also  a  very  old  town,  and  must  at  one  time  have 
contained  at  least  20,000  inhabitants,  though  now  it  has 
scarcely  twenty  families.  Ptolemy,  the  Greek  geographer, 
calls  it  Saccaea.  It  was  evidently  rebuilt  by  the  Romans, 
as  only  a  very  few  of  its  antique  massive  houses  remain, 
and  the  shattered  ruins  of  temples  are  seen  on  every  side. 
One  of  these  temples  was  long  used  as  a  church,  and  the 
ruins  of  another  church  also  exist,  which,  an  inscription 
tells  us,  was  dedicated  by  Bishop  Tiberinos  to  St.  George 
in  a.d.  369.  Around  Shuka  are  some  remarkable  tombs, 
square  towers,  about  twenty  feet  on  each  side,  and  from 
thirty  to  forty  high,  divided  into  stories.  Tablets  over  the 
doors  record  the  names  of  the  dead  who  once  lay  there,  and 
the  dates  of  their  death.  They  are  of  the  first  and  second 
centuries  of  our  era.  They  have  been  all  rifled,  so  that  we 
cannot  tell  how  the  bodies  were  deposited,  though  proba¬ 
bly  the  arrangements  were  similar  to  those  in  the  tombs 
of  Palmyra.  From  the  ruins  of  Shuka  three  other  towns 
were  in  sight  among  the  hills  on  the  east. 

Remounting,  we  rode  for  ten  miles  through  a  rich  agri¬ 
cultural  district  to  Shuhba.  We  passed  only  one  village, 
but  we  saw  several  towns  on  the  wooded  sides  of  the 
mountain  to  the  left,  and  numerous  others  down  on  the 
plain  to  the  right.  Crossing  a  rugged  ravine,  and  ascend¬ 
ing  a  steep  bank,  we  reached  the  walls  of  Shuhba.  They 
are  completely  ruined,  so  much  so,  that  the  only  way  into 
the  city  is  over  them,  beside  a  beautiful  Roman  gateway, 
now  blocked  up  with  rubbish.  Having  entered,  we  pro¬ 
ceeded  along  a  well-paved  street — the  most  perfect  speci- 


HOMAN  CITY  OF  SHUTIBA. 


37 


men  of  Roman  pavement  I  had  yet  seen — to  the  residence 
of  the  chief.  In  the  large  area  in  front  of  his  mansion  we 
found  a  crowd  of  eager  people,  and  the  first  to  hold  out  the 
hand  of  welcome  was  our  kind  host  of  the  previous  night, 
Sheikh  Assad.  He  introduced  us  to  his  brother  Fares,  and 
we  were  then  ushered  into  an  apartment  where  we  found 
comfort,  smiling  faces,  and  a  hearty  welcome. 

Shuhba  is  almost  entirely  a  Roman  city — the  ramparts 
are  Roman,  the  streets  have  the  old  Roman  pavement, 
Roman  temples  appear  in  every  quarter,  a  Roman  theatre 
remains  nearly  perfect,  a  Roman  aqueduct  brought  water 
from  the  distant  mountains,  inscriptions  of  the  Roman  age, 
though  in  Greek,  are  found  on  every  public  building.  A 
few  of  the  ancient  massive  houses,  with  their  stone  doors 
>/  and  stone  roofs,  yet  exist,  but  they  are  in  a  great  measure 
concealed  or  built  over  with  the  later  and  more  graceful 
structures  of  Greek  and  Roman  origin.  Though  this  city 
was  nearly  three  miles  in  circuit,  and  abounded  in  splendid 
buildings,  its  ancient  name  is  lost,  and  its  ancient  history 
unknown.  Its  modern  name  is  derived  from  a  princely 
Mohammedan  family  which  settled  here  in  the  seventh 
century.  The  Emir  Be  shir  Shehab ,  the  last  of  the  native 
rulers  of  Lebanon,  was  a  member  of  the  family,  and  so  also 
was  the  Emir  Saad-ed-Din,  who  was  murdered  in  the  late 
massacre  at  Hasbeiya  on  the  side  of  Hermon. 

Beside  Shuhba  is  a  little  cup-shaped  hill  which  caught 
my  eye  the  moment  I  entered  the  city.  On  ascending  I 
found  it  to  be  the  crater  of  an  extinct  volcano,  deeply  cov¬ 
ered  with  ashes,  cinders,  and  scoriae — one  of  the  centres, 
doubtless,  of  that  terrific  convulsion  which  in  some  remote 
age  heaved  up  the  mountains  of  Bashan,  and  spread  out  the 
molten  lava  which  cooled  into  the  rock  fields  of  Argob. 
From  the  summit  I  had  a  near  and  distinct  view  of  the 
south-eastern  section  of  Argob.  Its  features  are  even 
wilder  and  drearier  than  those  of  the  northern.  The  rocks 
are  higher,  the  glens  deeper  and  more  tortuous.  It  looks, 


as 


BASHAN  AND  ITS  GIANT  CITIES. 


in  fact,  like  the  ruins  of  a  country,  and  yet  towns  and  vih 
lages  are  thickly  studded  over  that  wilderness  of  rocks. 
The  mountains  which  rise  behind  Shuhba  on  the  east  are 
terraced  half-way  up,  and  their  tops  are  clothed  with  oak 
forests.  The  vine  and  the  fig  flourished  here  luxuriantly 
in  the  days  of  Bashan’s  glory,  winter  streams  then  irrigated 
and  enriched  the  slopes,  and  filled  the  great  cisterns  in  every 
city ;  but  the  Lord  said  in  his  wrath,  “  I  will  make  waste 
mountains  and  hills,  and  dry,  up  all  their  herbs ;  and  I  will 
make  the  rivers  islands,  and  I  will  dry  up  the  pools”  (Isa. 
xlii.  15),  and  now  I  saw  that  the  words  of  the  Lord  were 
literally  and  fearfully  true. 

Sheikh  Fares  and  his  brother  made  all  requisite  arrange¬ 
ments  for  our  future  tour  through  Bashan.  They  told  us 
that  so  long  as  we  travelled  in  the  Druse  country  we  should 
be  perfectly  safe ;  no  hand,  no  tongue,  would  be  lifted 
against  us ;  a  welcome  would  meet  us  in  every  village,  and 
a  cordial  wish  for  our  welfare  follow  us  on  every  path.  We 
knew  this,  for  we  knew  that  policy  as  well  as  the  sacred  laws 
of  Oriental  hospitality,  would  restrain  the  Druses  to  aid  and 
protect  us  to  the  utmost  of  their  power.  They  warned  us, 
however,  that  some  parts  of  our  proposed  journey  would  be 
attended  with  considerable  risk.  They  told  us  plainly  that 
the  Mohammedans  could  not  be  trusted,  and  that  if  we  at¬ 
tempted  to  penetrate  the  Lejah  (Argob),  all  the  power  of 
the  Druses  might  not  be  sufficient  to  save  us  from  the  fury 
of  excited  fanatics.  We  attributed  these  warnings  to  the 
best  motives,  but  we  thought  them  exaggerated.  To  our 
cost  we  afterwards  found  that  they  were  only  too  much 
needed.  Sheikh  Fares  gave  us  one  of  the  most  intelligent 
and  active  of  his  men  as  guide  and  companion,  he  also  sup¬ 
plied  horses  for  our  servants  and  baggage,  and  a  Druse  es¬ 
cort.  Thus  equipped,  we  bade  farewell  to  our  kind  and 
generous  host,  and  set  out  on  our  journey  southward.  For 
more  than  an  hour  we  followed  the  course  of  a  Roman  road 
along  the  western  declivity  of  the  mountain  range,  passing 


DRUSE  WOMEN  WAILING  FOR  THE  DEAD. 


39 


several  old  villages  on  the  right  and  left.  At  one  of  these 
villages,  picturesquely  situated  in  a  secluded  glen,  we  saw 
a  long  procession  of  Druse  women  near  a  clump  of  newly 
made  graves.  They  had  a  strange  unearthly  look.  The 
silver  horns  which  they  wear  upright  on  their  heads,  were 
nearly  two  feet  long,  over  these  were  thrown  white  veils, 
enveloping  the  whole  person,  and  reaching  to  the  ground, 
thus  giving  them  a  stature  apparently  far  exceeding  that  of 
mortals.  As  they  marched  with  stately  steps  round  the 
tombs,  they  sung  a  wild  chant  that  now  echoed  through  the 
whole  glen,  and  now  sunk  into  the  mournful  cadence  of  a 
death-wail.  I  asked  the  meaning  of  this  singular  and  strik¬ 
ing  scene,  and  was  told  that  eleven  of  the  bravest  men  in 
the  village  had  fallen  in  the  late  war,  these  were  their 
graves,  and  now  the  principal  women  of  Shuhba  had  come 
to  comfort  and  mourn  with  the  wives  of  the  slain;  just  as, 
in  the  time  of  our  Lord,  many  of  the  Jews  came  from  Jeru¬ 
salem  “  to  comfort  Martha  and  Mary  concerning  their 
brother  Lazarus  ”  (John  xi.  18-31). 

Descending  a  rugged  bank  into  a  rich  plain,  a  quarter  of 
an  hour’s  gallop  brought  us  to  Suleim,  a  small  but  ancient 
town,  containing  the  remains  of  a  beautiful  temple,  and 
some  other  imposing  buildings.  A  few  Druses,  who  find 
ample  accommodation  in  the  old  houses,  gathered  round  us, 
and  pressed  us  to  accept  their  hospitality.  We  were  com¬ 
pelled  to  decline,  and  after  examining  a  group  of  remarkable 
subterranean  cisterns,  we  mounted  again  and  turned  east¬ 
ward  up  a  picturesque  valley  to  Kunawat.  The  scenery  be¬ 
came  richer  and  grander  as  we  ascended.  The  highest 
peaks  of  the  mountains  of  Bashan  were  before  us,  wooded  to 
their  summits.  On  each  side  were  terraced  slopes,  broken 
here  and  there  by  a  dark  cliff  or  rugged  brake,  and  sprink¬ 
led  with  oaks ;  in  the  bottom  of  the  dell  below,  a  tiny  stream, 
the  first  we  had  seen  in  Bashan,  leaped  joyously  from  rock 
to  rock,  while  luxuriant  evergreens  embraced  each  other 
over  its  murmuring  waters.  From  the  top  of  every  rising 


40 


BASHAN  AND  ITS  GIANT  CITIES. 


ground  we  looked  out  over  jungle  and  grove  to  gray  ruins, 
which  here  and  there  reared  themselves  proudly  above 
dense  masses  of  foliage.  Diving  into  the  dell  by  a  path 
that  would  try  the  nerves  of  a  mountain  goat,  we  crossed 
the  streamlet  and  wound  up  a  rocky  bank,  among  giant  oaks 
and  thick  underwood,  to  an  old  building  which  crowns  a 
cliff  impending  over  the  glen.  As  we  rode  up  we  could  ob¬ 
tain  a  glimpse  of  its  gray  walls  here  and  there  through  dark 
openings,  but  on  reaching  the  broad  terrace  in  front  of  it, 
and  especially  on  entering  its  spacious  court,  we  were  struck 
as  much  with  its  extent  as  with  the  beauty  of  its  architecture. 
The  doorway  is  encircled  by  a  broad  border  of  the  fruit  and 
foliage  of  the  vine,  entwined  with  roses  and  lilies,  sculptured 
in  bold  relief,  and  with  equal  accuracy  of  design  and  delicacy 
of  execution.  The  court  was  surrounded  by  cloisters  sup¬ 
ported  by  Ionic  columns,  but  nearly  all  gone  now.  On  the 
north  side  is  a  projection  containing  a  building  at  one  pe¬ 
riod  used  as  a  church,  but  probably  originally  intended  for 
a  temple.  The  ruins  of  another  building,  the  shrine  or 
sanctuary  of  the  whole,  are  strewn  over  the  centre  of  the 
quadrangle.  The  graceful  pillars,  and  sculptured  pediment, 
and  cornice  with  its  garlands  of  flowers,  lie  in  shapeless 
heaps  beneath  the  shade  of  oak  trees,  and  almost  concealed 
by  thorns  and  thistles.  Yes,  the  curse  is  visible  there,  not 
so  painfully  visible  perhaps  as  in  Western  Palestine,  where 
only  a  few  stones  or  heaps  of  rubbish  mark  the  site  of 
great  cities,  yet  still  visible  in  crumbling  wall  and  prostrate 
column,  and  in  those  very  brambles  that  weave  a  beauteous 
mantle  round  the  fallen  monuments  of  man’s  genius  and 
power.  “  Thorns  shall  come  up  in  her  palaces,  nettles  and 
brambles  in  the  fortresses  thereof.” — They  are  here. 

And  other  evidences  of  the  curse  were  there  too.  As  we 
approached  the  ruin  not  a  living  creature  was  visible.  The 
air  was  still,  and  the  silence  of  death  appeared  to  reign  over 
glen  and  mountain.  A  solitary  fox  leaped  from  his  den  by 
the  great  gateway  as  our  feet  crossed  the  threshold,  and 


ADVENTURE  WITH  BEDAWIN. 


41 


took  refuge  in  a  neighbouring  thicket,  but  this  seemed  to  be 
the  only  tenant  alike  of  temple  and  forest.  So  it  seemed,  and 
so  we  thought ;  yet,  before  we  were  fifteen  minutes  among 
the  ruins,  three  or  four  wild-looking  heads  were  observed 
peering  over  a  cairn  of  stones,  and  the  sunbeams  glanced 
from  the  barrels  of  their  levelled  muskets.  We  went  on 
with  our  examinations,  and  the  wild  heads  and  glittering 
barrels  went  on  increasing.  Mahmood,  our  Druse  guide, 
fortunately  saw  them,  and  stepping  out  from  the  shade  of 
the  portico,  where  we  had  left  him  with  the  horses,  he 
hinted  that  it  would  be  well  for  us  to  keep  near  him,  and 
complete  our  researches  as  speedily  as  possible.  We  soon 
mounted,  and  as  we  defiled  through  the  forest  a  score  of 
fierce  Bedawin,  armed  with  gun  and  pistol,  leaped  from 
their  hiding-places,  and  lined  our  path.  We  were  startled,  * 
and  began  to  think  that  our  tour  was  about  to  come  to  a 
speedy  and  unpleasant  termination ;  but  Mahmood  rode  on 
in  silence,  not  deigning  to  turn  his  head,  or  direct  a  single 
look  to  these  daring  outlaws.  W e  followed  in  close  file,  and 
as  I  brought  up  the  rear,  I  thought  it  well  to  give  them  the 
customary  salutation,  TJllah  maJcum ,  “  God  be  with  you.” 
Not  a  man  of  them  returned  it ;  and  plainly,  as  if  the  words 
had  been  written  on  their  scowling  faces,  I  saw  that  they 
were  cursing  inwardly  the  stern  necessity  that  kept  their 
hands  olf  us.  These  we  afterwards  learned  are  the  chief 
inhabitants  of  the  mountains  of  Bashan — reckless,  lawless, 
thieving  vagabonds,  who  live  by  plunder,  and  glory  in  their 
success  as  freebooters.  The  Druses  keep  them  in  check,  and 
they  know  well  that  a  terrible  vengeance  would  be  taken  on 
them  if  they  should  dare  to  interfere  with  any  one  enjoying 
Druse  protection.  How  applicable  to  this  section  of  Pales¬ 
tine,  and  to  many  another,  are  the  words  of  Isaiah, — “  Your 
country  is  desolate,  your  cities  are  burned  with  fire ;  your 
land,  strangers  devour  it  in  your  'presence ,  and  it  is  deso* 
late ,  as  overthrown  by  strangers ”  (i.  7). 


42 


BASHAN  AND  ITS  GIANT  CITIES. 


KENATH. 

A  few  minutes’  ride  brought  us  to  the  brow  of  a  hill  com¬ 
manding  a  view  of  Kunawat.  On  the  left  was  a  deep  dark 
ravine,  and  on  the  sloping  ground  along  its  western  bank 
lie  the  ruins  of  the  ancient  city.  The  wall,  still  in  many 
places  almost  perfect,  follows  the  top  of  the  cliffs  for  nearly 
a  mile,  and  then  sweeps  round  in  a  zigzag  course,  enclosing 
a  space  about  half  a  mile  wide.  The  general  aspect  of  the 
city  is  very  striking — temples,  palaces,  churches,  theatres, 
and  massive  buildings  whose  original  use  we  cannot  tell, 
are  grouped  together  in  picturesque  confusion;  while  be¬ 
yond  the  walls,  in  the  glen,  on  the  summits  and  sides  of 
wooded  peaks,  away  in  the  midst  of  oak  forests,  are  clus¬ 
ters  of  columns  and  massive  towers,  and  lofty  tombs.  The 
leading  streets  are  wide  and  regular,  and  the  roads  radiat¬ 
ing  from  the  city  gates  are  unusually  numerous  and  spa¬ 
cious. 

While  the  Israelites  were  engaged  in  the  conquest  of  the 
country  east  of  the  Jordan,  Moses  tells  us  that  “  Kobah  went 
and  took  Kenath ,  and  the  villages  thereof,  and  called  it 
Kobah,  after  his  own  name”  (Kum.  xxxii.  42).  Kenatfy 
was  now  before  us.  The  name  was  changed  into  Canatha 
by  the  Greeks ;  and  the  Arabs  have  made  it  Kunawat. 
During  the  Roman  rule  it  was  one  of  the  principal  cities  east 
of  the  Jordan;  and  at  a  very  early  period  it  had  a  large 
Christian  population,  and  became  the  seat  of  a  bishopric. 
It  appears  to  have  been  almost  wholly  rebuilt  about  the 
commencement  of  our  era,  and  is  mentioned  by  most  of 
those  Greek  and  Roman  writers  who  treat  of  the  geography 
or  history  of  Syria.  At  the  Saracenic  conquest  Kenath  fell 
into  the  hands  of  the  Mohammedans,  and  then  its  doom  was 
sealed.  There  are  no  traces  of  any  lengthened  Mohamme¬ 
dan  occupation,  for  there  is  not  a  single  mosque  in  the 
whole  town.  The  heathen  temples  were  all  converted  into 
churches,  and  two  or  three  new  churches  were  built ;  but 


THE  RUINS  OF  KENATH. 


43 


none  of  these  buildings  were  ever  used  as  mosques,  as  such 
buildings  were  in  most  of  the  other  great  cities  of  Syria. 

We  spent  the  afternoon  and  some  hours  of  the  next  day 
in  exploring  Kenath.  Many  of  the  ruins  are  beautiful  and 
interesting.  The  highest  part  of  the  site  was  the  aristo¬ 
cratic  quarter.  Here  is  a  noble  palace,  no  less  than  three 
temples,  and  a  hippodrome  once  profusely  adorned  with 
statues.  In  no  other  city  of  Palestine  did  I  see  so  many 
statues  as  there  are  here.  Unfortunately  they  are  all  muti¬ 
lated;  but  fragments  of  them  —  heads,  legs,  arms,  torsos, 
with  equestrian  figures,  lions,  leopards,  and  dogs — meet  one 
on  every  side.  A  colossal  head  of  Ashteroth,  sadly  broken, 
lies  before  a  little  temple,  of  which  probably  it  was  once  the 
chief  idol.  The  crescent  moon  which  gave  the  goddess  the 
name  Carnaim  (“two-horned”),  is  on  her  brow.  I  was 
much  interested  in  this  fragment,  because  it  is  a  visible 
illustration  of  an  incidental  allusion  to  this  ancient  goddess 
in  the  very  earliest  historic  reference  to  Bashan.  We  read 
in  Gen.  xiv.  5,  that  the  kings  of  the  East,  on  their  way  to 
Sodom,  “  smote  the  Rephaims  in  Aslitcroth-Karnaim .” 
May  not  this  be  the  very  city  ?  We  found  on  examination 
that  the  whole  area  in  front  of  the  palace  has  long  ranges  of 
lofty  arched  cisterns  beneath  it,  something  like  the  temple 
court  at  Jerusalem.  These  seemed  large  enough  to  supply 
the  wants  of  the  city  during  the  summer.  They  were  filled 
by  means  of  an  aqueduct  excavated  in  the  bank  of  the  ra¬ 
vine,  and  connected  probably  with  some  spring  in  the  moun¬ 
tains.  The  tombs  of  Kenath  are  similar  to  those  of  Pal¬ 
myra — high  square  towers  divided  into  stories,  each  story 
containing  a  single  chamber,  with  recesses  along  the  sides 
for  bodies.  About  a  quarter  of  a  mile  west  of  the  city  is  a 
beautiful  peripteral  temple  of  the  Corinthian  order,  built  on 
an  artificial  platform.  Many  of  the  columns  have  fallen, 
and  the  walls  are  much  shattered ;  but  enough  remains  to 
make  this  one  of  the  most  picturesque  ruins  in  the  whole 
country. 


44: 


BASHAN  AND  ITS  GIANT  CITIES. 


Early  in  the  morning  we  set  out  to  examine  the  ruins  in 
the  glen,  and  to  scale  a  high  cliff  on  its  opposite  hank,  where 
we  had  noticed  a  singular  round  tower  and  some  heavy 
fragments  of  walls.  The  glen  appears  to  have  been  an 
ciently  laid  out  as  a  park  or  pleasure  ground.  We  found 
terraced  walks,  and  little  fountains  now  dry,  and  pedestals 
for  statues,  a  miniature  temple,  and  a  rustic  opera,  whose 
benches  are  hewn  in  the  side  of  the  cliff;  a  Greek  inscrip¬ 
tion  in  large  characters  round  the  front  of  the  stage,  tells  us 
that  it  was  erected  by  a  certain  Marcus  Lusias,  at  his  own 
expense,  and  given  to  his  fellow-citizens.  From  the  opera 
a  winding  stair-case,  hewn  in  the  rock,  leads  up  to  the  round 
tower  on  the  summit  of  the  cliff.  We  ascended,  and  were 
well  repaid  alike  for  our  early  start  and  toil.  The  tower  it¬ 
self  has  little  interest ;  it  is  thirty  yards  in  circuit,  and  now 
about  twenty  feet  high ;  the  masonry  is  colossal  and  of 
great  antiquity.  Beside  it  are  the  remains  of  a  castle  or 
palace,  built  of  bevelled  stones  of  enormous  size.  The  doors 
are  all  of  stone,  and  some  of  them  are  ornamented  with 
panels  and  fretted  mouldings,  and  wreaths  of  fruit  and 
flowers  sculptured  in  high  relief.  In  one  door  I  observed  a 
place  for  a  massive  lock  or  bar;  perhaps  one  of  those 
“  brazen  bars  ”  to  which  allusion  is  made  by  the  sacred  writ¬ 
ers  (i  Kings  iv.  13).  But  it  was  the  glorious  view  which 
these  mins  command  that  mainly  charmed  us.  As  I  sat 
down  on  a  great  stone  on  the  brow  of  the  ravine,  my  eye 
wandered  over  one  of  the  most  beautiful  panoramas  I  ever 
beheld.  From  many  a  spot  amid  the  lofty  peaks  of  Leba¬ 
non  I  had  looked  on  wilder  and  grander  scenery.  Standing 
on  the  towering  summit  of  the  castle  at  Palmyra,  ruins  more 
extensive  and  buildings  far  more  magnificent  lay  at  my  feet. 
From  the  Cyclopean  walls  of  the  Temple  of  the  Sun  at  Baal- 
bec  I  saw  prouder  monuments  of  man’s  genius,  and  more 
exquisite  memorials  of  his  taste  and  skill.  But  never  before 
had  I  looked  on  a  scene  which  nature,  and  art,  and  destruc¬ 
tion  had  so  combined  to  adorn.  It  was  not  the  wild  grand- 


SHEPHERDS  LEADING  THEIR  FLOCKS. 


45 


eur  of  Lebanon,  with  beetling  cliff  and  snow-capped  peak ; 
it  was  not  the  flat  and  featureless  Baalbec,  with  its  Cyclo¬ 
pean  walls  and  unrivalled  columns ;  it  was  not  the  blasted 
desolation  of  Palmyra,  where  white  ruins  are  thickly  strewn 
over  a  white  plain.  Here  were  hill  and  dale,  wooded  slopes 
and  wild  secluded  glens,  frowning  cliffs  and  battlemented 
heights,  moss-grown  ruins  and  groups  of  tapering  columns 
springing  up  from  the  dense  foliage  of  the  oaks  of  Bashan. 
Hitherto  I  had  been  struck  with  the  nakedness  of  Syrian 
ruins.  They  are  half-buried  in  dust,  or  they  are  strewn  over 
mounds  of  rubbish,  or  they  lie  prostrate  on  the  bare  gravelly 
soil ;  and,  though  the  shafts  are  graceful,  the  capitals  chaste, 
the  fretwork  of  frieze  and  cornice  rich,  yet,  as  pictures,  they 
contrast  poorly  with  the  ivy-mantled  abbeys  of  England, 
and  the  nature-clothed  castles  of  the  Rhine.  Amid  the  hills 
of  Bashan,  however,  the  scene  is  changed.  The  fresh  fo¬ 
liage  hides  defects,  and  enhances  the  beauty  of  stately 
portico  and  massive  wall,  while  luxuriant  creepers  twine 
round  the  pillars,  and  wreathe  the  volutes  of  the  capitals 
with  garlands. 

SHEPHERDS  LEADING  THEIR  FLOCKS. 

As  we  sat  and  looked,  almost  spell-bound,  the  silent  hill¬ 
sides  around  us  were  in  a  moment  filled  with  life  and  sound. 
The  shepherds  led  their  flocks  forth  from  the  gates  of  the 
city.  They  were  in  full  view,  and  we  watched  them  and 
listened  to  them  with  no  little  interest.  Thousands  of  sheep 
and  goats  were  there,  grouped  in  dense,  confused  masses. 
The  shepherds  stood  together  until  an  came  out.  Then 
they  separated,  each  shepherd  taking  a  different  path,  and 
uttering  as  he  advanced  a  shrill  peculiar  call.  The  sheep 
heard  them.  At  first  the  masses  swayed  and  moved,  as  if 
shaken  by  some  internal  convulsion ;  then  points  struck  out 
in  the  direction  taken  by  the  shepherds ;  these  became  long¬ 
er  and  longer  until  the  confused  masses  were  resolved  into 
long,  living  streams,  flowing  after  their  leaders.  Such  a 


46 


BASH  AN  AND  ITS  GIANT  CITIES. 


sight  was  not  new  to  me,  still  it  had  lost  none  of  its  interest. 
It  was  perhaps  one  of  the  most  vivid  illustrations  which 
human  eyes  could  witness  of  that  beautiful  discourse  of  our 
Lord  recorded  by  John — “And  the  sheep  hear  the  shep¬ 
herd’s  voice :  and  he  calletli  his  own  sheep  by  name,  and 
leadetli  them  out,  and  when  he  putteth  forth  his  own  sheep, 
he  goeth  before  them,  and  the  sheep  follow  him ;  for  they 
know  his  voice.  And  a  stranger  will  they  not  follow :  for 
they  know  not  the  voice  of  strangers”  (x.  3-5). 

The  shepherds  themselves  had  none  of  that  peaceful  and 
placid  aspect  which  is  generally  associated  with  pastoral 
life  and  habits.  They  looked  more  like  warriors  marching 
to  the  battle-field — a  long  gun  slung  from  the  shoulder,  a 
dagger  and  heavy  pistols  in  the  belt,  a  light  battle-axe  or 
iron-headed  club  in  the  hand.  Such  were  their  equipments ; 
and  their  fierce  flashing  eyes  and  scowling  countenances 
showed  but  too  plainly  that  they  were  prepared  to  use 
their  weapons  at  any  moment.  They  were  all  Arabs — 
not  the  true  sons  of  the  desert,  but  a  mongrel  race  living  in 
the  mountains,  and  acting  as  shepherds  to  the  Druses  while 
feeding  their  own  flocks.  Their  costume  is  different  from  that 
of  the  Druses,  and  ahnost  the  same  as  that  of  the  desert 
Arabs — a  coarse  shirt  of  blue  calico  bound  round  the  waist 
by  a  leathern  girdle,  a  loose  robe  of  goats’  hair,  and  a  hand¬ 
kerchief  thrown  over  the  head  and  fastened  by  a  fillet  of 
camels’  hair — such  is  their  whole  costume,  and  it  is  filthy 
besides,  and  generally  in  rags. 

THE  DKTTSES. 

From  Kunawat  we  saw  two  large  deserted  villages  higher 
up  the  mountains,  and  a  large  deserted  town  below  on  the 
borders  of  the  plain.  These  we  had  not  time  to  visit.  The 
hospitable  Druses  repeatedly  urged  us  to  spend  another  day 
with  them ;  and  we  felt  a  strong  inclination  to  linger  in  this 
old  city,  for  there  was  much  to  interest  us,  not  in  the  ruins 
merely,  but  likewise  in  the  modern  inhabitants.  When 


THE  DRUSES. 


47 


squatting  in  tlie  evening  in  the  large  reception  room  of  the 
sheikh’s  house  we  observed  with  some  surprise  that  though 
it  was  often  crowded  with  Druses,  old  and  young,  not  a 
man  of  them  tasted  coffee  or  tobacco  except  Mahmood. 
They  all  belonged  to  the  order  of  Ukala ,  or  “  initiated and 
they  are  N azirites  in  the  widest  sense.  Kunawat,  in  fact,  is 
almost  a  holy  city  for  the  Druses ;  their  great  religious  chief 
resides  here,  and  this  place  is  consequently  the  centre  of  power 
and  intrigue.  They  are  a  remarkable  people.  Their  relig¬ 
ion  is  a  mystery ;  their  manners  are  simple  and  patriarchal ; 
their  union  and  courage  are  proverbial ;  and  though  small 
in  number  they  form  the  most  powerful  party  in  Syria. 
Whenever  danger  threatens,  or  whenever  they  find  it  ex¬ 
pedient  to  resist  the  demands  or  exactions  of  the  Porte, 
they  congregate  in  the  Hauran,  and  no  force  has  ever  been 
found  sufficient  to  dislodge  or  subdue  them.  Here  they  de¬ 
fied  Ibrahim  Pasha,  and  destroyed  the  flower  of  the  Egyp¬ 
tian  army;  here  they  have  once  and  again  defeated  the 
Turkish  troops,  and  driven  them  back  with  disgrace  to  the 
very  walls  of  Damascus.  Physically  they  are  the  finest 
race  in  Western  Asia — tall,  stalwart,  hardy  mountaineers. 
Accustomed  from  childhood  to  vigorous  exercise,  and  trained 
in  athletic  sports  and  the  use  of  arms,  they  form  a  body  of 
brave  and  daring  “irregulars”  such  as  the  world  could 
scarcely  match.  But  the  grand  secret  of  their  power  is 
their  union.  They  act  together  as  one  man.  Brotherly 
union  in  peace  and  war,  in  prosperity  and  adversity,  is  the 
chief  article  of  their  religious  creed.  As  regards  religion 
they  are  divided  into  two  classes,  the  Initiated  and  the  Ig¬ 
norant.  With  the  former  the  rites,  ceremonies,  and  doc¬ 
trines  remain  a  profound  secret.  The  holy  books  are  pre¬ 
served  and  read  by  them  alone.  They  assemble  in  chapels 
every  Thursday  evening,  refusing  admission  to  all  others. 
What  they  do  then  and  there  is  unknown ;  but  there  is  rea¬ 
son  to  believe  that  these  meetings  are  quite  as  much  of  a 
political  as  a  religious  character. 

3 


43 


BASHAN  and  its  giant  cities. 


The  Druse  sheikhs  form  a  hereditary  nobility,  and  pre¬ 
serve  with  great  tenacity  all  the  pride  and  state  of  their 
order.  They  receive  and  entertain  travellers  with  profuse 
hospitality,  and  no  compensation  in  money  can  be  offered 
to  them.  To  strangers,  under  ordinary  circumstances,  they 
are  obliging,  communicative,  and  faithful.  In  time  of  peace 
they  are  industrious  and  courteous;  but  in  war  they  are 
noted  alike  for  daring  courage  and  unsparing  ferocity. 
When  among  this  strange  and  primitive  people  in  Bashan, 
I  felt  at  once  that  I  was  out  of  the  beaten  track  of  tourists, 
where  one  can  pitch  his  tent,  picket  his  horses,  cook  his 
provisions,  and  march  again,  caring  for  nobody,  and  nobody 
caring  for  him.  Here  all  is  different.  We  are  among  a 
people  of  patriarchal  manners  and  genuine  patriarchal  hos¬ 
pitality.  We  were  looked  on  and  treated  as  welcome  guests. 
We  could  not  pass  town  or  village  without  being  entreated 
to  accept  hospitality.  “Will  not  my  lord  descend  while 
his  servants  prepare  a  little  food  ?”  is  the  urgent  language 
of  every  village  sheikh.  The  coffee  is  always  on  the  hearth ; 
a  kid  or  lamb — representative  of  the  old  “  fatted  calf” — is 
at  hand,  and  can  be  “  got  ready”  with  all  the  despatch  of 
ancient  days.  Food  for  servants,  “provender”  for  horses, 
accommodation  for  all,  are  given  as  matters  of  course.  In 
travelling  through  Bashan  one  fancies  himself  carried  back 
to  the  days  when  the  patriarchs  sat  in  their  tent-doors, 
ready  to  welcome  every  visitor  and  hail  every  passer-by. 


III. 

“And  Bashan  and  Carmel  shake  off  their  fruits.” 

This  text  was  constantly  in  my  mind  while  I  wandered 
through  Bashan.  In  riding  down  from  the  ruins  of  Kenath, 
among  the  mountains,  to  the  ruins  of  Suweideh  at  their 
base,  it  struck  me  that  the  beautiful  words  in  which  Cow- 


FULFILMENT  OF  PROPHECY. 


49 


per  describes  modern  Sicily,  are  strikingly  descriptive  of 
modern  Palestine. 

“  Alas  for  Sicily  !  rude  fragments  now 
Lie  scattered  where  the  shapely  column  stood. 

Her  palaces  are  dust.  In  all  her  streets 
The  voice  of  singing,  and  the  sprightly  chord 
Are  silent.  Revelry,  and  dance,  and  show 
Suffer  a  syncope  and  solemn  pause  ; 

While  God  performs  upon  the  trembling  stage 
Of  his  own  works  his  dreadful  part  alone.” 

We  might  begin,  “  Alas  for  Palestine  !”  and  go  on  through 
the  whole  passage ;  for  Palestine’s  palaces  are  dust,  her 
stately  columns  fallen,  her  streets  silent,  her  fields  desolate, 
while  God  alone  performs  his  dreadful  part,  fulfilling  to  the 
very  letter  the  prophetic  curses  pronounced  upon  the  land 
long,  long  centuries  ago. 

WONDERFUL  FULFILMENT  OF  PROPHECY. 

We  rode  along  the  line  of  the  Poman  road,  at  least  as 
closely  as  branches  of  the  great  old  oaks,  and  jungles  of 
thorns  and  bushes,  would  permit ;  for  “  the  highways  lie 
waste  ”  (Isa.  xxxiii.  8).  Every  opening  to  the  right  and  left 
revealed  ruins ; — now  a  tomb  in  a  quiet  nook ;  now  a  temple 
in  a  lonely  forest  glade ;  now  a  shapeless  and  nameless  heap 
of  stones  and  fallen  columns ;  and  now,  through  a  long 
green  vista,  the  shattered  walls  and  towers  of  an  ancient 
city.  The  country  is  filled  with  ruins.  In  every  direction 
to  which  the  eye  turns,  in  every  spot  on  which  it  rests,  ruins 
are  visible — so  truly,  so  wonderfully  have  the  prophecies 
been  fulfilled :  “  I  will  destroy  your  high  places ,  and  bring 
your  sanctuaries  unto  desolation  ”  (Lev.  xxvi.  30).  “  The 

palaces  shall  be  forsaken”  (Isa.  xxxii.  14).  “ I  will  make 

your  cities  icaste.  The  land  shall  be  utterly  spoiled ”  (Isa. 
xxiv.  3).  Many  other  ruins,  doubtless,  lie  concealed  among 
the  forests,  buried  beneath  giant  oaks,  or  shrouded  by  lux¬ 
uriant  brambles.  Judging  by  the  “thorns  and  thistles” 
which  hem  in  every  path,  and  half  conceal  every  ruin,  one 


50 


BASHAN  AND  ITS  GIANT  CITIES. 


would  suppose  that  Bashan  had  received  a  double  portion 
of  the  curse. 

The  mountains  of  Bashan,  though  not  generally  very 
steep,  are  rugged  and  rocky ;  yet  everywhere  on  their  sides 
I  saw  the  remains  of  old  terraces — along  every  slope,  up 
every  bank,  from  the  bottom  of  the  deepest  glen,  where  the 
oleander  bends  over  the  tiny  streamlet,  to  the  highest  peak 
on  which  the  clouds  of  heaven  sleep,  cradled  on  winter 
snows.  These  tell  of  former  toil  and  industry ;  and  so  do 
the  heaps  of  loose  stones  that  have  been  collected  off  the 
soil,  and  piled  up  in  the  corners  of  the  little  fields.  In  the 
days  of  Bashan’s  glory,  fig-trees,  and  olives,  and  pomegran¬ 
ates,  were  ranged  along  those  terraces;  and  vines  hung 
down  in  rich  festoons  over  their  broken  walls.  But  now 
Bashan  has  shaken  off  its  fruits.  “  For  a  nation  is  come 
up  upon  my  land ,  strong ,  and  without  number.  He  hath 
laid  my  vine  waste ,  and  barked  my  fig-tree  ;  he  hath  made 
it  clean  bare ,  and  cast  it  away.  The  field  is  wasted ,  the 
land  mourneth.  The  new  wine  is  dried  up ,  the  oil  lan¬ 
guished.  The  vine  is  dried  up ,  the  fig-tree  languished  • 
the  pomegranate-tree,  the  palm-tree  also ,  and  the  apple-tree  ; 
even  all  the  trees  of  the  field  are  withered  /  because  joy  is 
withered  away  from  the  sons  of  men  ”  (Joel  i.  6-12). 

The  scenery  is  still  rich.  It  is  rich  in  the  foliage  of  the 
evergreen  oak — the  “  oak  of  Bashan  rich  in  numbers  of 
evergreen  shrubs ;  rich  in  green  pastures.  It  is  picturesque 
too,  and  occasionally  even  grand ;  for  the  glens  are  deep  and 
winding,  and  the  outlines  of  the  intervening  ridges  varied 
with  many  a  dark  cliff  and  wooded  bank.  The  whole 
mountain  range  is  of  volcanic  origin,  and  the  peaks  shoot 
up,  conical  or  cup-shaped,  forming  long  serried  lines.  One 
thing  struck  me  as  peculiar.  The  rocks  are  black,  the  soil 
is  black,  the  buildings  are  all  black.  It  might  be  thought 
that  the  landscape  would  thus  have  a  gloomy  aspect ;  and 
it  would  have,  were  it  not  for  the  fresh  green  grass  of  the 
glades  and  meadows,  and  the  brilliant  foliage  of  the  oak 


PROPHECY  CHANGED  TO  HISTORY. 


51 


forests,  which  often  glitter  beneath  the  blaze  of  sunshine 
like  forests  of  prisms. 

I  confess  it  was  with  feelings  of  awe  I  looked  from  time  to 
time  out  over  those  desolate,  but  still  beautiful  slopes,  to- 
that  more  desolate  plain.  I  knew  what  caused  the  desola¬ 
tion.  The  silence,  too,  awed  me  yet  more,  for  it  was  pro¬ 
found.  The  voice  of  nature  itself  was  hushed,  and  not  a 
leaf  in  the  forest  rustled.  There  is  always  something  cheer¬ 
ful,  something  reviving  to  the  flagging  spirit,  in  the  unceas¬ 
ing  murmur  of  a  great  city,  now  rising  and  now  falling  on 
the  breeze,  as  one  approaches  it  or  passes  by ;  and  in  the 
continuous  hum  of  a  rural  scene,  where  the  call  of  the  herd, 
and  the  whistle  of  the  ploughman,  and  the  roll  of  the  wag¬ 
gon,  and  the  bleatings  of  the  flock,  and  the  lowing  of  the 
kine,  melt  into  one  of  nature’s  choruses.  Here  cities  stud¬ 
ded  the  whole  country,  but  the  stillness  of  death  reigned  in 
them ;  there  was  no  ploughman  in  the  field,  no  shepherd  on 
the  hill-side,  no  flock  on  the  pasture,  no  waggon,  no  way¬ 
farer  on  the  road.  Yet  there  was  a  time  when  the  land 
teemed  with  an  industrious,  a  bustling,  and  a  joyous  popu¬ 
lation.  At  that  time  prophets  wrote :  “  Your  highways 
shall  be  desolate  ”  (Ley.  xxvi.  22).  “  The  wayfaring  man 

ceaseth.  The  earth  mourneth  and  languisheth  ”  (Isa. 
xxxiii.  8).  “  The  land  shall  be  utterly  emptied  and  utterly 

spoiled /  for  the  Lord  hath  spolcen  this  word.  Therefore 
hath  the  curse,  devoured  the  land.  Therefore  the  inhabit¬ 
ants  of  the  land  are  consumed ,  and  few  men  left.  Every 
hoi*°e  is  shut  up.  The  mirth  of  the  land  is  gone.  In  the 
city  is  left  desolation ,  and  the  gate  is  smitten  with  de¬ 
struction ”  (Isa.  xxiv.  3-12).  Many  of  the  people  of  those 
days,  doubtless,  thought  the  prophets  were  but  gloomy 
dreamers.  Just  as  many  in  our  own  day  regard  their  writ¬ 
ings  as  gorgeous  fancy  pictures  of  Eastern  poets ;  but  with 
my  own  eyes  I  saw  that  time  has  changed  eveiy  prediction 
into  a  historic  fact.  I  saw  now,  and  I  saw  at  every  step 
through  Bashan,  that  the  visions  of  the  prophets  were  not 


52 


BASH  AN  AND  ITS  GIANT  CITIES. 


delusions ;  that  they  were  not  even,  as  some  modem  critics 
suppose,  highly  wrought  figures,  intended  perhaps  to  fore¬ 
shadow  in  faint  outline  a  few  leading  facts  of  the  country’s 
future  story.  I  saw  that  they  were,  one  and  all,  graphic 
and  detailed  descriptions  of  real  events,  which  the  Divine 
Spirit  opened  up  to  the  prophet’s  eye  through  the  long 
vista  of  ages.  The  language  is,  doubtless,  beautiful,  the 
style  is  poetic,  and  gorgeous  Eastern  imagery  is  often 
employed  to  give  sublimity  to  the  visions  of  the  seer,  and 
to  the  words  of  the  Lord ;  but  this  does  not  take  away  one 
iota  from  their  truth,  nor  does  it  detract  in  the  slightest 
degree  from  their  graphic  power.  Were  the  same  holy 
men  inspired  now  by  the  same  Divine  Spirit  to  describe 
the  actual  state  of  Palestine,  they  could  not  possibly  select 
language  more  appropriate  or  more  graphic  than  that  found 
in  their  own  predictions  written  thousands  of  years  ago. 
This  is  no  vague  statement  made  at  random,  or  penned  for 
effect.  God  forbid  I  should  ever  pen  a  single  line  rashly  or 
thoughtlessly  on  such  a  topic.  It  is  the  result  of  years  of 
study  and  years  of  travel.  It  is  the  result  of  a  calm  and 
thorough  comparison  of  each  prophecy  of  Scripture  regard¬ 
ing  Palestine’s  history  and  doom  with  its  fulfilment,  upon 
the  sj)ot.  I  had  no  preconceived  theory  of  prophetic  in¬ 
terpretation  to  defend.  My  mind  was  not  biassed  by  a 
false  faith  in  literality  on  the  one  side,  nor  by  a  fatal  scep¬ 
ticism  regarding  prophetic  reality  on  the  other.  Oppor¬ 
tunities  were  afforded  me  of  examining  evidence,  of  test¬ 
ing  witnesses,  of  seeing  with  my  own  eyes  the  truth  or 
the  falsehood  of  Bible  predictions.  I  embraced  these  op¬ 
portunities,  as  God  gave  them,  and  to  the  utmost  of  my 
power  and  the  best  of  my  ability.  I  examined  deliberately, 
cautiously,  and,  I  believe,  conscientiously.  My  examina¬ 
tions  extended  over  all  Palestine,  and  over  most  other  Bible 
lands ;  and  now  I  thank  God  that,  with  the  fullest  and 
deepest  conviction — conviction  that  all  the  ingenuity  of 
modern  criticism,  and  all  the  plausibility  of  modern  scien- 


DESTRUCTION  of  trees. 


53 


tific  scepticism  can  never  overthrow,  could  never  shake — I 
can  take  up  and  re-echo  the  grand,  the  cheering  statement 
of  our  blessed  Lord,  and  proclaim  my  belief  before  the 
world,  that  “ Till  heaven  and  earth  pass ,  one  jot  or  one 
tittle  shall  in  no  wise  pass  from  the  Law ,  till  cdl  be  ful¬ 
filled.” 

I  observed  around  Kenath,  and  especially  in  the  thickest 
parts  of  the  forest  on  the  way  to  Suweideh,  that  many  of 
the  largest  and  finest  oak  trees  were  burned  almost  through 
near  the  ground,  and  that  a  vast  number  of  huge  trunks 
were  lying  black  and  charred  among  the  stones  and  brush¬ 
wood.  I  wondered  at  what  appeared  to  be  a  piece  of  wan¬ 
ton  and  toilsome  destruction,  and  I  asked  Mahmood  if  he 
could  explain  it. 

“The  Bedawin  do  it,”  he  replied.  “They  make  large 
quantities  of  charcoal  for  the  Damascus  market,  as  well  as 
for  home  use ;  and  that  they  may  get  more  easily  at  the 
branches,  which  are  the  only  parts  of  the  tree  used,  they 
kindle  a  fire  round  the  roots  of  the  largest  oaks,  burn  them 
deeply,  and  then  the  first  blast  of  wind  blows  them  over, 
and  the  boughs  are  chopped  off  with  little  axes.” 

“  But,”  I  said,  “  in  this  way  they  destroy  vast  quantities 
of  splendid  timber.” 

“  True ;  but  they  do  not  care.  All  they  want  is  a  present 
supply,  and  they  try  to  get  it  in  the  easiest  way  possible.” 

“They  will  soon  make  your  mountains  as  bare  as  Jebel 
esh-Sheikh,  and  where  will  you  go  for  fireAvood  and  char¬ 
coal  then?  You  are  fools  to  permit  such  needless  Avaste 
and  destruction.” 

“  O  my  lord  ?”  said  Mahmood — and  there  Avas  a  degree 
of  solemnity  and  pathos  both  in  his  tone  and  in  his  Avords — 
“O  my  lord!  it  is  you  Franks  alone  Avho  have  Avisdom  to 
look  to  the  future,  and  poAver  to  provide  for  it.  We  !  what 
can  we  do  in  this  unhappy  country?  We  are  all  wander¬ 
ers — here  to-day,  away  to-morroAV.  Should  we  attempt  to 
preserve  these  oaks,  or  to  plant  vineyards  and  olives,  or  to 


54 


BASHAN  AND  ITS  GIANT  CITIES. 


spend  labour  and  money  on  fields  or  houses,  we  would  only 
be  working:  out  our  own  ruin.  The  Bedawin  would  be  at- 
tracted  in  clouds  round  the  tempting  fruit ;  and  the  Turks 
would  come,  drive  us  out  with  their  cannon,  and  seize  our 
whole  property.  No,  no!  We  can  have  no  permanent  in¬ 
terest  in  the  ground.  We  can  only  hold  it  as  we  have  got 
it,  by  the  sword ;  and  the  poorer  it  looks,  the  less  will  our 
enemies  covet  it.” 

It  was  a  sad  picture,  and,  unfoitunately,  a  true  one.  By 
such  mad  acts,  and  by  still  more  wanton  destruction  in 
times  of  war,  and  of  party  and  family  struggles,  fruit-trees 
and  forests  have  been  almost  annihilated  in  Palestine.  And 
would  it  not  seem  as  if  the  old  prophets  had  been  able  to 
look  down  through  the  mists  of  long  centuries,  and  to  see 
the  progress  and  the  effects  of  this  very  mode  of  ruin  and 
desolation,  clearly  as  I  saw  it  in  Bashan?  Isaiah  thus 
wrote :  “  The  defenced  city  shall  be  desolate,  and  the  habita¬ 
tion  forsaken,  and  left  like  a  wilderness :  there  shall  the  calf 
feed,  and  there  shall  he  lie  down,  and  consume  the  branches 
thereof.  When  the  boughs  thereof  are  withered  they  shall 
be  broken  off;  the  women  come  and  set  them  on  fire  ;  for 
it  is  a  people  of  no  understanding  ”  (Isa.  xxvii.  10,  11). 

Descending  from  Kenath,  I  saw,  about  a  mile  to  the  right, 
the  deserted  town  of  Atyl.  Burckhardt  and  one  or  two 
others  visited  it,  but  I  was  compelled  from  want  of  time  to 
pass  it  by.  It  contains  some  fine  buildings,  among  which 
are  two  beautiful  temples  nearly  perfect.  One  of  them  was 
built  in  the  fourteenth  year  of  the  Emperor  Antonine  (a.d. 
150),  as  a  Greek  inscription  tells  us.  Like  Kenath,  this 
city  was  in  a  great  measure  rebuilt  during  the  Roman  age, 
and  consequently  there  are  not  many  of  the  very  ancient 
massive  houses  now  remaining.  Further  down  on  the  plain 
I  saw  Rimeh  and  Welgha,  two  deserted  towns.  Every 
view  we  got  in  Bashan  was  an  ocular  demonstration  of  the 
literal  fulfilment  of  the  curse  pronounced  on  the  land  by 
Moses,  more  than  three  thousand  years  ago:  “If  ye  will 


RUINS  OF  SUWEIDEH. 


55 


not  hearken  unto  me ,  and  will  not  do  all  these  command- 

ments . I  will  scatter  you  among  the  heathen ;  and 

your  land  shall  be  desolate ,  and  your  cities  waste  ”  (Lev. 
xxvi.  14,  33). 

THE  Bums  OF  SUWEIDEH. 

Emerging  from  the  oak  forests  we  found  ourselves  on  a 
low  bare  ridge  which  juts  out  from  the  mountains  some  dis¬ 
tance  into  the  plain.  It  is  divided  down  the  centre  by  a 
deep  rocky  ravine,  through  which  a  winter  torrent  flows. 
The  portion  of  this  ridge  south  of  the  ravine  is  covered  with 
the  ruins  of  Suweideh.  We  were  riding  up  to  them  when 
my  attention  was  attracted  by  a  singular  monument  stand¬ 
ing  alone  on  a  commanding  site,  a  few  hundred  yards  north 
of  the  city.  It  is  a  square  tower,  about  thirty  feet  high. 
The  sides  are  ornamented  with  Doric  semi-columns  support¬ 
ing  a  plain  cornice,  and  between  them,  on  panels,  are 
shields,  helmets,  and  trophies  of  anus  sculptured  in  relief. 
A  legend,  inscribed  in  Greek  and  Palmyrene,  states  that 
“ Odainatus ,  son  of  Annelos ,  built  this  monument  to 
Chamrate ,  his  wife”  Few  and  simple  are  the  words. 
The  story  of  Chamrate  is  unknown.  What  were  her  jiri- 
vate  virtues,  or  public  services,  we  cannot  tell.  Strange 
that  this  monument  should  stand  as  the  tribute  of  a  hus¬ 
band’s  admiration  and  love,  when  the  histories  of  husband, 
wife,  and  native  city  have  passed  away  for  long  centuries ! 
It  is  worthy  of  note  that  Odainatus  was  the  name  of  the 
celebrated  husband  of  the  still  more  celebrated  Zenobia. 
The  Palmyrene  inscription  on  the  monument  would  seem  to 
indicate  that  its  founder  was  a  native  of  the  desert  city. 
Perhaps  the  great  Odainatus  himself,  during  his  warlike 
expedition  into  Syria,  may  have  thus  celebrated  the  vir¬ 
tues  of  a  former  wife. 

Crossing  the  ravine  by  a  Roman  bridge,  we  rode  up  to 
Suweideh,  and  under  the  guidance  of  the  sheikh’s  son,  a 
fine  manly  boy  of  some  fourteen  years,  splendidly  dressed 


BASHAN  AND  ITS  GIANT  CITIES. 


in  a  scarlet  robe,  and  armed  with  silver-hilted  sword  and 
dagger,  we  proceeded  to  examine  in  detail  the  wide-spread 
ruins.  We  visited  a  Corinthian  peristyle ;  a  Roman  gate¬ 
way  at  the  end  of  a  straight  street,  nearly  a  mile  in  length, 
and  paved  throughout ;  the  ruins  of  a  temple  of  the  age  of 
Trajan;  the  remains  of  a  very  large  church,  within  whose 
crumbling  walls  is  the  modern  Christian  burying-ground ;  a 
mosque,  the  roof  of  which  was  once  supported  on  marble 
columns,  doubtless  rifled  from  an  old  church,  or  a  still  older 
temple.  Then  we  inspected  the  ruins  of  a  fountain,  of  an 
opera,  and  of  a  large  theatre ;  and  we  saw  two  immense 
reservoirs,  anciently  supplied  by  aqueducts  which  brought 
water  from  the  neighbouring  mountains. 

Verily  the  destroyer  has  been  long  at  work  in  this  old 
city  !  Here  are  ruins  heaped  upon  the  top  of  ruins ;  temples 
transformed  into  churches ;  churches  again  transformed  into 
mosques,  and  mosques  now  dreary  and  desolate.  Inscriptions 
were  here,  side  by  side,  recording  each  transformation,  and 
showing  how  the  same  building  was  dedicated  first  to  Jove, 
then  to  St.  George,  and  finally  to  Mohammed.  We  walked 
on  after  our  little  guide,  winding  among  vast  heaps  of  ruins — 
ruins,  nothing  but  ruins,  and  desolation,  and  rent  walls,  and 
fallen  columns.  The  modern  dwellings  are  just  the  lower 
stories  of  the  ancient  houses,  which  have  been  cleared  out 
and  occupied;  and  the  whole  site  has  become  so  deeply 
covered  with  fallen  structures,  that  the  people  seem,  for 
the  most  part,  to  be  residing  in  caves. 

Thirty  or  forty  boys,  with  a  fair  sprinkling  of  men,  fol¬ 
lowed  us,  shouting  and  dancing  in  high  glee  at  the  strange 
figures  of  the  Franks,  the  first,  probably,  that  most  of  them 
had  seen.  We  should  have  been  seriously  incommoded  by 
their  attentions,  had  it  not  been  for  the  threats  of  our  manly 
little  guide,  accompanied  now  and  then  by  a  volley  of  stones 
at  the  boys  who  ventured  too  near.  As  we  passed  the 
houses,  too,  and  the  cavern-like  court-yards,  portly  women 
and  coy  girls  peeped  at  us  with  one  eye  over  the  corners  of 


ANCIENT  PROSPERITY. 


57 


their  long  white  veils,  and  laughingly  pointed  out  to  each 
other  some  wondrous  oddity  about  our  dress.  Our  hats — - 
or  kettles ,  as  they  persisted  in  calling  them. — attracted  most 
attention.  In  fact,  we  created  among  the  quiet  people  of 
Suweideh  quite  as  great  a  sensation  as  a  party  of  Arabs 
with  their  bronzed  faces,  flame-coloured  turbans,  and  flow¬ 
ing  robes  would  do  in  Cheapside  or  in  the  High  Street  of 
Edinburgh. 

bio  city  in  Bashan — not  even  Bozrah,  its  Roman  capital — 
surpasses  Suweideh  in  the  extent  of  its  ruins;  and  yet, 
strange  to  say,  its  ancient  name  is  unknown,  and  there  is  no 
mention  of  it  in  history  previous  tc  the  Crusades.  It  seems 
to  have  suffered  more  from  time  and  from  the  chances  of 
war  than  any  other  city  in  the  whole  country.  Inscriptions 
found  on  its  monuments  show  that  it  was  a  flourishing  city 
long  before  the  conquest  of  Bashan  by  the  Romans  in  a.d. 
105,  and  that  it  carried  on  an  extensive  trade  with  Egypt  and 
other  countries  down  to  the  middle  of  the  fourth  century. 
William  of  Tyre,  the  historian  of  the  Crusades,  says  of  the 
region  round  the  city :  “  It  is  rich  in  the  choicest  products 
of  nature, — wine,  corn,  and  oil;  the  climate  is  salubrious 
and  the  air  pure.”  So  late,  therefore,  as  the  twelfth  century 
the  country  was  prosperous  and  the  city  populous.  We 
can  see  the  evidence  of  this  still.  The  hill-sides  are  every¬ 
where  terraced,  and  plain  and  mountain  alike  bear  the 
marks  of  former  careful  cultivation.  The  terraces  are  ad¬ 
mirably  fitted  for  the  growth  of  the  vine,  the  fig,  and  the 
olive;  and  the  rich  plain  even  now  bears  crops  of  grain 
whose  luxuriance  is  proverbial.  Nowhere  in  Bashan,  no¬ 
where  in  all  Syria,  did  I  see  such  convincing  evidences  of 
the  surpassing  richness  and  vast  resources  of  the  soil,  as 
around  Suweideh.  One  would  suppose  that  Moses  had  his 
eye  upon  it  when  he  penned  these  words — words  equally 
beautiful  and  true:  “The  Lord  thy  G-od  bringeth  thee  into 
a  good  land ,  a  land  of  brooks  of  water ,  of  fountains  and 
depths  that  spring  out  of  the  valleys  and  hills  /  a  land  of 


58 


BASHAN  AND  ITS  GIANT  CITIES. 


wheat ,  and  barley ,  and  vines ,  awe?  fig  trees ,  awe?  pomegran¬ 
ates  /  a  land  of  oil  olive ,  awe?  honey  /  a  land  loherein  thou 
shall  eat  bread  without  scarceness ,  ?Aow  s/ea??  wo?  ?ac&  awy- 
thing  in  it  ”  (Dent.  viii.  7-9). 

And  one  would  suppose,  too,  looking  at  the  Bible  and 
looking  at  the  land — comparing  prophetic  description  with 
authentic  history  and  present  reality — that  the  prophets 
must  surely  have  read  the  long  and  sad  history  of  Palestine 
as  I  read  it,  and  that  they  must  surely  have  seen  the  pres¬ 
ent  utter  ruin  and  terrible  desolation  of  this  part  of  it  as  I 
saw  it,  and  that  they  must  surely  have  heard  from  the  lips 
of  the  people  the  story  of  their  oppression  and  their  dangers 
as  I  heard  it,  before  they  could  possibly  have  written  such 
graphic  words  as  these :  UI  will  make  your  cities  waste , 
and  bring  your  sanctuaries  unto  desolation.  I  will  bring 
the  land  into  desolation ;  and  your  enemies  which  dwell 
therein  shall  be  astonished  at  it ”  (Ley.  xxvi.  31,  32). 
“The  generation  to  come  of  your  children  that  shall  rise 
up  after  you ,  and  the  stranger  that  shall  come  from  a  far 
land ,  shall  say ,  when  they  see  the  plagues  of  that  land ,  and 
the  sicknesses  which  the  Lord  hath  laid  upon  it ,  T Therefore 
hath  the  Lord  done  thus  unto  this  land?  what  meaneth  the 
heat  of  this  great  anger?”  (Deut.  xxix.  22,  24). 

These  are  only  a  few,  a  very  few,  of  multitudes  of  similar 
predictions.  And,  let  it  be  observed,  the  predictions  are  not 
made  in  mere  general  terms,  capable  of  a  wide  rendering  and 
a  somewhat  vague  reference.  They  are  special,  graphic, 
and  detailed;  and  their  fulfilment  is  evident  as  it  is  com¬ 
plete.  The  fields  are  waste,  the  roads  deserted,  the  cities 
abandoned,  the  houses  without  inhabitants,  the  sanctuaries 
desecrated,  the  vineyards,  orchards,  and  groves  destroyed. 
And  the  land  is  desolated  by  the  “  violence  ”  and  the  folly 
“  of  all  them  that  dwelt  therein  f — of  the  Turks,  its  nominal 
owners,  and  of  the  Arabs,  its  periodical  “  spoiler sf  who 
come  up  “ upon  all  high  places  through  the  wilderness .” 
“  Every  one  that  passeth  by  it  is  astonished ”  at  its  deserted 


HOSPITALITY  OF  A  DRUSE  CHIEF. 


59 


cities  and  waste  fields ;  and  “  the  stranger  that  comes  from 
a  far  country ,” — the  thoughtful  student  of  history,  the 
thoughtful  observer,  the  thoughtful  reader  of  his  Bible, — 
cannot  refrain  from  exclaiming,  as  he  rides  through  Bashan, 
“  Wherefore  hath  the  Lord  done  this  unto  this  land  f  ” 

The  noble  Druse  chief  of  Suweideh,  Sheikh  Waked  el- 
Hamdan,  was  absent  on  our  arrival,  but  in  the  evening  he 
returned,  and  entertained  us  with  a  hospitality  that  would 
have  done  honor  to  the  patriarch  Job,  who  is  represented, 
by  a  local  tradition,  as  having  been  the  first  prince  of  Su¬ 
weideh.  When  the  evening  banquet  was  over,  the  whole 
elders  of  the  town  crowded  into  the  large  reception  room  of 
Sheikh  Waked,  and  squatted  in  concentric  circles  round  the 
blazing  fire.  We  occupied  the  seat  of  honour,  on  a  raised 
dais,  beside  the  sheikh.  Rings  of  white  turbans,  the  distin¬ 
guishing  head-dress  of  the  Druses,  appeared  round  and 
round  us,  here  and  there  broken  by  the  crimson  kefiyeh  of 
a  Bedawy,  or  the  black  kerchief  of  a  Christian.  An  Egyp¬ 
tian  sat  by  the  fire  preparing  and  distributing  coffee,  while 
an  Abyssinian  slave  behind  him  pounded  the  fragrant  berries 
in  a  huge  oak  mortar,  beating  time  with  the  pestle,  which 
bore  some  resemblance,  in  form  and  size,  to  an  Indian  war- 
club.  Each  guest,  on  drinking,  rose  to  his  knee,  touched 
forehead  and  lips  with  his  right  hand,  and  bowed  to  the 
sheikh ;  then,  on  sitting  down  again,  he  made  another  similar 
salam,  intended  for  the  rest  of  the  company,  and  those  near 
him  returned  it,  with  a  muttered  prayer  that  the  refreshment 
might  do  him  good.  It  was  an  interesting  scene,  and  was 
probably  not  unlike  the  receptions  of  guests  in  the  mansion 
of  Job  and  in  the  tents  of  Abraham. 

We  talked  of  politics,  of  war,  and  of  poetry;  and  most  of 
the  company  took  part  in  the  conversation  with  a  respect¬ 
ful  propriety  and  a  good  sense  that  surprised  me.  The  po¬ 
etry  of  the  Arabs  has  some  striking  peculiarities.  Their 
poets  often  describe  the  virtues  and  achievements  of  distin¬ 
guished  men  in  short  stanzas,  containing  two  or  four  mea- 


60 


BASHAN  AND  ITS  GIANT  CITIES. 


sures ;  and  the  beauty  of  the  rhythm  and  boldness  of  the 
imagery  are  sometimes  of  a  high  order.  There  is  a  species 
of  composition  which  they  often  try,  and  in  which  many  are 
adepts.  It  is  difficult  for  those  who  are  ignorant  of  the  pe¬ 
culiar  structure  of  the  Arabic  language  to  understand  its  na¬ 
ture.  A  word  is  taken,  and,  by  changing  its  form,  a  series  of 
distinct  acts  is  described,  each  act  being  expressed  by  a  differ¬ 
ent  inflexion  of  the  root.  One  word  will  thus  occur  six,  eight, 
or  ten  times  in  a  stanza,  with  the  addition  of  a  prefix  or  suffix, 
or  the  insertion  of  an  intermediate  letter,  or  an  alteration  in 
a  vowel  point ;  and  each  change  conveys  a  new  and  definite 
meaning.  The  warlike  achievements  of  a  favorite  leader 
are  not  unfrequently  graphically  described  in  this  manner 
by  skilful  and  varied  inflexions  of  his  own  name.  The  He¬ 
brew  scholar  will  find  something  analogous  to  this  in  Ja¬ 
cob’s  play  upon  the  word  Gilead ,  in  Genesis  xxxi.  46-48  ; 
but  the  best  examples  of  the  kind  in  Scripture  are  given  in 
Hosea,  chapters  i.  and  ii.,  on  the  word  Jezreel. 

The  morning  we  left  Suweideh  dawned  gloomy  and 
threatening.  A  heavy  thunder-storm  had  passed  over  the 
place  during  the  night.  Never  before  in  Syria  had  I  seen 
rain  heavier  or  lightning  more  vivid.  For  an  hour  or  more 
the  flashes  seemed  to  form  one  continuous  stream,  lighting 
up  the  ruins  of  the  city,  and  the  glens  and  rocks  of  the 
neighbouring  mountains  with  an  intense  though  lurid  blaze. 
In  the  morning,  dark,  lowering  clouds  still  swept  along  the 
surface  of  the  ground,  and  enveloped  the  whole  mountains. 
The  air  was  cold,  and  the  smart  showers  which  fell  at  inter¬ 
vals  made  it  feel  still  colder ;  but  as  the  wind  was  high,  and 
veering  round  to  the  north,  we  knew  the  day  would  be  fine  ; 
for  the  Scripture  statement  still  holds  good  in  Scripture 
lands, — “Fair  weather  cometh  out  of  the  north”  (Job 
xxxvii.  22). 

A  few  minutes’  ride  down  the  rocky  slope  of  the  ridge  on 
which  Suweideh  stands  brought  us  into  the  plain  of  Bashan, 
properly  so  called.  I  had  heard  much  of  its  richness.  I 


“the  highways  are  desolate.”  61 

ba6  beard  of  the  wonderful  productiveness  of  that  deep, 
black,  loamy  soil,  of  the  luxuriance  of  its  grass,  and  of  its 
teeming  crops  of  grain ;  but  up  to  the  moment  I  first  set 
foot  on  it,  I  thought — indeed  I  was  fully  persuaded — that  a 
large  amount  of  exaggeration  must  run  through  all  those 
glowing  descriptions.  Now  I  saw  that  there  had  been  no 
exaggeration,  and  that  no  part  of  Palestine  could  be  com¬ 
pared  in  fertility  to  the  plain  of  Bashan.  No  wonder  the 
pastoral  tribes  of  Reuben,  Gad,  and  Manasseh  made  choice 
of  this  noble  country,  preferring  its  wooded  hills  and  grassy 
plains  to  the  comparatively  bleak  and  bare  range  west  of 
the  Jordan,  visible  from  the  heights  of  Moab.  The  plain 
extended  in  one  unbroken  expanse,  flat  as  the  surface  of  a 
lake,  for  fifty  miles,  to  the  base  of  Hermon.  Little  hills — 
some  conical,  some  cup-shaped  —  rise  at  intervals  like  isl¬ 
ands,  and  over  their  surface,  and  sometimes  round  their 
bases,  are  scattered  fragments  of  porous  lava,  intermixed 
with  basalt  of  a  firmer  texture ;  but  the  rest  of  the  soil  is 
entirely  free  from  stones.  On  or  beside  these  tells  many  of 
the  ancient  towns  stand ;  and  their  black  walls,  houses,  and 
towers,  shattered  by  time  and  the  horrors  of  war,  often  look 
in  the  distance  like  natural  cliffs. 

The  Roman  road  which  anciently  connected  Damascus 
and  Bostra,  passing  close  to  some  of  the  chief  cities  of  Ba¬ 
shan,  lay  a  few  hundred  yards  to  the  right  of  our  path.  Its 
line  can  still  be  traced, — indeed  the  old  pavement  is  in  many 
places  quite  perfect,  as  much  so  as  any  part  of  the  Appian 
way ;  and  yet,  in  a  ride  of  some  twenty  miles  this  day  along 
that  route,  we  did  not  meet,  we  did  not  see,  a  single  human 
being.  The  “  way-faring  man  ”  has  “  ceased  ”  here,  and 
“  the  highways  are  desolate.”  Before  reaching  the  town  of 
Ary,  about  eight  miles  from  Suweideh,  we  passed  two  vil¬ 
lages,  and  we  saw  four  others  a  little  way  up  the  mountain¬ 
side,  on  the  left, — all  of  which  contain  a  few  families  of 
Druses ;  while  away  on  the  plain,  to  the  right,  no  less  than 
five  towns  were  in  view  in  one  moment,  entirely  deserted. 


62 


BASHAN  AND  ITS  GIANT  CITIES. 


The  words  of  Jeremiah  are  surely  fulfilled:  UI  beheld ,  ana 

lo,  there  was  no  man . I  beheld ,  and ,  lo,  the  fruitful 

place  was  a  wilderness ,  and  all  the  cities  thereof  icere 
broken  down  at  the  presence  of  the  Lord ,  and  by  his  fierce 
anger  ”  (iv.  25,  26). 

The  town  of  Ary  stands  on  a  rocky  tell.  It  is  about  a 
mile  in  circuit ;  hut  there  are  no  buildings  of  any  import¬ 
ance  ;  nor  are  there  any  traces  of  wealth  or  architectural 
beauty.  It  appears  to  have  been  a  plain  country  town, 
which  became  the  seat  of  a  bishopric  about  the  fourth  cen¬ 
tury,  as  we  learn  from  the  old  ecclesiastical  records. 

We  had  ascended  the  hill-side,  and  were  quietly  occupied 
in  examining  the  ruins  of  what  seemed  to  have  been  a 
church,  when  a  party  of  the  inhabitants  came  up,  headed  by 
their  sheikh,  and  invited  us  to  accept  of  their  hospitality. 
They  would  take  no  excuse.  It  would  be  a  disgrace  to 
their  village  if  they  would  permit  us  to  pass ;  it  would  be 
an  insult  to  their  chief  if  we  should  attempt  it.  They  en¬ 
treated  as  Abraham  would  have  done  at  his  tent-door,  or 
Lot  at  the  gate  of  Sodom.  We  entered  the  sheikh’s  house; 
and  while  coffee  was  being  prepared,  the  whole  household — • 
in  fact  a  great  part  of  the  town — got  into  a  state  of  commo¬ 
tion.  A  woman  came  into  the  apartment  with  a  large  cop¬ 
per  vessel  in  her  hand,  — took  “  a  measure  ”  of  flour  out  of 
a  huge  earthen  jar  in  the  corner,  poured  on  water,  and  com¬ 
menced  the  process  of  “ kneading  unleavened  cakes”  A 
moment  afterwards  we  heard  a  confused  noise  of  cackling: 
and  screaming ;  then  a  flock  of  hens  flew  in  terror  past  the 
open  door,  followed  by  a  troop  of  women  and  boys  in  full 
chase.  We  saw  they  had  resolved  to  make  us  “a  feast.” 
The  flocks  were  at  a  distance,  and  it  would  take  hours  to 
obtain  a  lamb  or  a  kid, — fowls  must  therefore  serve  as  a 
substitute.  We  were  fully  aware  of  the  despatch  of  Arab 
cooks,  and  that  in  this  respect  they  were  not  surpassed  even 
by  the  patriarchal;  but  our  time  was  too  precious  to  be 
wasted  in  mere  cerSmony,  however  interesting.  Firmly, 


MAGNIFICENT  PANORAMA. 


63 


"but  respectfully,  we  assured  our  worthy  host  tnac  we  must 
proceed  at  once  to  Bozrah.  To  the  evident  regret  of  the 
stately  sheikh,  and  the  unbounded  astonishment  of  crowds 
of  his  people,  who  gathered  round  us,  and  who  could  not 
understand  how  it  was  possible  for  any  polite  or  respecta¬ 
ble  person  to  decline  proffered  hospitality,  we  mounted  our 
norses  and  rode  off. 

Our  route  lay  near  the  base  of  the  mountains  of  Bashan, 
which  rose  up  in  dark  frowning  masses  on  our  left,  most  of 
their  conical  peaks  wooded  to  the  summit.  Kuleib,  the 
highest  of  the  whole  range,  was  in  full  view,  its  top  covered 
with  snow.  Low  spurs  here  shot  far  out  into  the  plain, 
having  between  them  rich  vales  covered  with  luxuriant 
pastures.  Through  the  midst  of  each  vale,  between  high 
alluvial  banks,  now  flowed  a  tiny  winter  stream.  Passing 
the  villages  of  Mujeimir  and  Wetr,  we  gained  the  crest  of  a 
ridge  commanding  a  noble  view  over  the  plain  southward. 
We  drew  bridle  for  a  few  minutes,  to  examine  more  mi¬ 
nutely  this  magnificent  panorama.  On  the  west,  south,  and 
south-east,  the  plain  was  unbounded.  Every  section  of  it 
to  which  we  turned  our  eyes  was  thickly  dotted  with  large 
towns  and  villages ;  yet,  with  the  exception  of  a  few  spots 
near  us,  there  was  no  cultivation,  and  we  did  not  see  a 
single  tree  or  bush  on  that  vast  expanse.  Mahmood  pointed 
out  the  more  important  cities.  Due  southward,  some  five 
miles  distant,  a  broad  black  belt  extended  far  across  the 
green  plain;  in  the  midst  of  it  rose  the  massive  towers  and 
battlements  of  a  great  castle ;  while  other  towers  and  taper¬ 
ing  minarets  shot  up  here  and  there.  That  was  JBozrah , 
the  ancient  stronghold  of  Bashan,  the  capital  of  the  Roman 
province,  and  the  first  city  in  Syria  captured  by  the  Sara¬ 
cens.  We  saw  Jemurrin,  Keires,  Burd,  Ghusam,  and  a  host 
of  others  on  the  right  and  left — all  deserted.  Low  in  a  val¬ 
ley,  on  the  sout-east,  lay  the  wide-spread  ruins  and  ancient 
Ni  colossal  houses  of  Kerioth ,  one  of  the  old  cities  of  the  plain 
of  Moab  (Jer.  xlviii.  24) ;  while  away  beyond  it,  on  the  hor- 


64 


BASHAN  AND  ITS  GIANT  CITIES. 


izon,  rose  a  graceful  conical  hill,  crowned  with  the  castle  of 
Salcah ,  which  Joshua  mentions  as  the  eastern  limit  of 
Bashan,  and  of  the  kingdom  of  the  giant  Og  (Josh.  xiii. 
11,12). 

This  southern  section  of  Bashan  is  richer  in  historic  and 
sacred  associations  than  the  northern.  I  looked  at  it  now 
spread  out  before  me  with  feelings  such  as  I  cannot  de¬ 
scribe.  Those  large  deserted  cities,  that  noble  but  desolate 
plain, — the  whole  history  of  the  country  for  four  thousand 
years,  from  the  Bephaim  down  to  the  Osmanlis,  is  written 
there.  The  massive  dwellings  show  the  simple  style  and  pon¬ 
derous  workmanship  of  Giant  architects.  Jewish  masonry 
and  names ;  Greek  inscriptions  and  temples ;  Homan  roads ; 
Christian  churches ;  Saracenic  mosques ;  Turkish  desola¬ 
tions  ; — all,  all  are  there ;  and  all  alike  are  illustrations  of 
the  accuracy  and  confirmations  of  the  truth  of  the  Bible. 


IV. 

BOZRAH. 

“  And  judgment  is  come . upon  Bozrah.” — Jer.  xlviii.  24. 

I  spent  three  days  at  Bozrah.  There  is  much  to  be  seen 
there, — much  of  Scriptural,  and  still  more  of  historical  and 
antiquarian  interest ;  and  I  tried  to  see  it  all.  Bozrah  was  a 
strong  city,  as  its  name  implies — Bozrah ,  “  fortress,” — and 
a  magnificent  city;  and  numerous  vestiges  of  its  ancient 
strength  and  magnificence  remain  to  this  day.  Its  ruins 
are  nearly  five  miles  in  circuit ;  its  walls  are  lofty  and  mas¬ 
sive  ;  and  its  castle  is  one  of  the  largest  and  strongest  for¬ 
tresses  in  Syria.  Among  the  ruins  I  saw  two  theatres,  six 
temples,  and  ten  or  twelve  churches  and  mosques ;  besides 
palaces,  baths,  fountains,  aqueducts,  triumphal  arches,  and 
other  structures  almost  without  number.  The  old  Boz rites 
must  have  been  men  of  great  taste  and  enterprise  as  well  as 


BEDAWIN  ROBBERS. 


65 


wealth.  Some  of  the  buildings  I  saw  there  would  grace 
the  proudest  capital  of  modern  Europe. 

It  is  a  work  of  no  little  toil  to  explore  Bozrah.  The 
streets  are  mostly  covered,  and  in  some  places  completely 
blocked  up,  with  fallen  buildings  and  heaps  of  rubbish. 
Over  these  I  had  to  climb,  risking  my  limbs  among  loose 
stones.  The  principal  structures,  too,  are  so  much  encum¬ 
bered  with  broken  columns  and  the  piled-up  ruins  of  roofs 
and  pediments,  that  one  has  great  difficulty  in  getting  at 
them,  and  discovering  their  points  of  interest  or  beauty.  In 
trying  to  copy  a  Greek  inscription  over  the  door  of  a  church, 

I  clambered  to  the  top  of  a  wall.  My  weight  caused  it  to 
topple  over,  and  it  fell  with  a  terrible  crash.  It  was  only 
by  a  sudden  and  hazardous  leap  I  escaped,  and  barely  es¬ 
caped,  being  buried  beneath  it.  And  we  were  hourly  ex¬ 
posed  to  danger  of  another  and  still  more  pressing  kind. 
Bozrah  had  once  a  population  of  a  hundred  thousand  souls 
and  more ;  when  I  was  there  its  whole  inhabitants  comprised 
just  twenty  families  !  These  lived  huddled  together  in  the 
lower  stories  of  some  very  ancient  houses  near  the  castle. 
The  rest  of  the  city  is  completely  desolate.  The  fountains 
near  the  city,  and  the  rich  pastures  which  encircle  them,  at¬ 
tract  wandering  Bedawin, — outcasts  from  the  larger  tribes, 
and  notorious  thieves  and  brigands.  These  come  up  from 
the  desert  with  a  few  goats,  sheep,  and  donkeys,  and  per¬ 
haps  a  horse ;  and  they  lurk,  gipsy-like,  about  the  fountains 
and  among  the  ruins  of  the  large  outlying  towns  of  Bashan, 
watching  every  opportunity  to  plunder  an  unguarded  cara¬ 
van  or  strip  (Luke  x.  30)  an  unwary  traveller,  or  steal  a 
stray  camel.  The  whole  environs  of  Bozrah  are  infested 
with  them,  owing  to  the  extent  of  the  ruins  and  the  num¬ 
bers  of  wells  and  springs  in  and  around  them.  Our  arrival, 
numbers,  and  equipments  had  been  carefully  noted;  and 
armed  men  lay  in  wait,  as  we  soon  discovered,  at  various  * 
places,  in  the  hope  of  entrapping  and  plundering  some  strag¬ 
gler.  Once,  indeed,  a  bold  attempt  was  made  by  their  com- 


06 


BASHAN  AND  ITS  GIANT  CITIES. 


bined  forces  to  carry  off  our  whole  party.  We  had  fortu¬ 
nately  taken  the  precaution  on  our  arrival  to  engage  the 
brother  of  the  sheikh  as  guide  and  guard  during  our  stay ; 
and  to  this  arrangement,  joined  to  the  fear  of  the  Druse 
escort,  we  owed  our  safety.  So  true  has  time  made  the 
words  of  Jeremiah:  “  The  spoilers  are  come  upon  all  high 
places  through  the  wilderness . . .  .no  flesh  shall  have  peace” 
(Jer.  xii.  12).  The  words  of  Ezekiel,  too,  are  strikingly 
applicable  to  the  present  state  of  Bozrah:  ilThus  saith  the 
Lord  God  of  the  land  of  Israel ;  They  shall  eat  their 
bread  with  carefulness,  and  drink  their  water  with  aston¬ 
ishment,  that  their  land  may  be  desolate  from  all  that  is 
therein,  because  of  the  violence  of  all  them  that  dwell  there¬ 
in.  And  the  cities  that  are  inhabited  shall  be  laid  waste, 
and  the  land  shall  be  desolate  ”  (Ezek.  xii.  19,  20). 

The  sheikh  of  Bozrah  told  me  that  his  flocks  would  not 
be  safe  even  in  his  own  court-yard  at  night,  and  that  armed 
sentinels  had  to  patrol  continually  round  their  little  fields 
at  harvest-time.  “If  it  were  not  for  the  castle,”  he  said, 
“which  has  high  walls,  and  a  strong  iron  gate,  we  should 
be  forced  to  leave  Busrah  altogether.  We  could  not  stay 
here  a  week.  The  Bedawin  swarm  round  the  ruins.  They 
steal  everything  they  can  lay  hold  of, — goat,  sheep,  cow, 
horse,  or  camel ;  and  before  we  can  get  on  their  track  they 
are  far  away  in  the  desert.” 

Two  or  three  incidents  came  under  my  own  notice  which 
proved  the  truth  of  the  sheikh’s  sad  statement.  One  day 
when  examining  the  ruins  of  a  large  mosque,  the  head  of  a 
Bedawy  appeared  over  an  adjoining  wall,  looking  at  us. 
The  sheikh,  who  was  by  my  side,  cried  out,  on  seeing  him, 
“  Dog,  you  stole  my  sheep !”  and  seizing  a  stone  he  hurled  it 
at  him  with  such  force  and  precision  as  must  have  brained 
him  had  he  not  ducked  behind  the  wall.  The  sheikh  and 
*  his  companions  gave  chase,  but  the  fellow  escaped.  One 
cannot  but  compare  such  scenes,  scenes  of  ordinary  life,  of 
everyday  occurrence  in  Bashan,  with  the  language  of  pro- 


THE  RUINS  OF  BOZRAH. 


67 


phecy:  “I  will  give  it  (the  land  of  Israel)  into  the  hands  of 
strangers  for  a  prey,  and  to  the  wicked  of  the  earth  for  a 

spoil ; . .  ..robbers  shall  enter  into  it  and  defile  it . The 

land  is  full  of  bloody  crimes ,  and  the  city  is  full  of  vio¬ 
lence”  (Ezek.  vii.  2,  21-23). 

Bozrah  was  one  of  the  strongest  cities  of  Bashan ;  it  was, 
indeed,  the  most  celebrated  fortress  east  of  the  Jordan,  dur¬ 
ing  the  Roman  rule  in  Syria.  Some  parts  of  its  wall  are 
still  almost  perfect,  a  massive  rampart  of  solid  masonry, 
fifteen  feet  thick  and  nearly  thirty  high,  with  great  square 
towers  at  intervals.  The  walled  city  was  almost  a  rectan¬ 
gle,  about  a  mile  and  a  quarter  long  by  a  mile  broad  ;  and 
outside  this  were  large  straggling  suburbs.  A  straight 
street  intersects  the  city  lengthwise,  and  has  a  beautiful 
gate  at  each  end ;  and  other  straight  streets  run  across  it. 
Roman  Bozrah  (or  JBostra)  was  a  beautiful  city,  with  long 
straight  avenues  and  spacious  thoroughfares ;  but  the  Sara¬ 
cens  built  their  miserable  little  shops  and  quaint  irregular 
houses  along  the  sides  of  the  streets,  out  and  in,  here  and 
there,  as  fancy  or  funds  directed ;  and  they  thus  converted 
the  stately  Roman  capital,  as  they  did  Damascus  and  An¬ 
tioch,  into  a  labyrinth  of  narrow,  crooked,  gloomy  lanes. 
One  sees  the  splendid  Roman  palace,  and  gorgeous  Greek 
temple,  and  shapeless  Arab  dukhan ,  side  by  side,  alike  in 
ruins,  just  as  if  the  words  of  Isaiah  had  been  written  with 
special  reference  to  this  city  of  Moab  :  uIIe  shall  bring  down 
their  pride  together  with  the  spoil  of  their  hands.  And 
the  fortress  of  the  high  fort  of  thy  walls  shall  He  bring 
down ,  lay  low ,  and  bring  to  the  ground ,  even  to  the  dust  ” 
(Isa.  xxv.  11,  12). 

It  might  perhaps  be  as  trying  to  my  reader’s  patience  as 
it  was  to  my  limbs,  were  I  to  retrace  with  him  all  my 
v  anderings  among  the  ruins  of  Bozrah ;  relating  every  little 
incident  and  adventure ;  and  describing  the  wonders  of  art 
and  architecture,  and  the  curiosities  of  votive  tablet,  and 
dedicatory  inscription  on  altar,  tomb,  church,  and  temple, 


68 


BASHAN  AND  ITS  GIANT  CITIES. 


which  I  examined  and  deciphered  during  these  three  days. 
Still  I  think  many  will  wish  to  hear  a  few  particulars  about 
an  old  Bible  city,  and  a  city  of  so  much  historical  impor¬ 
tance  in  the  latter  days  of  Bashan’s  glory.  To  me  and  to 
my  companions  it  was  intensely  interesting  to  note  the 
changes  that  old  city  has  undergone.  They  are  shown  in 
the  strata  of  its  ruins  just  as  geological  periods  are  shown  in 
the  strata  of  the  earth’s  crust.  Some  of  them  are  recorded, 
too,  on  monumental  tablets,  containing  the  legends  of  other 
centuries.  In  one  spot,  deep  down  beneath  the  accumulated 
remains  of  more  recent  buildings,  I  saw  the  simple,  massive, 
primitive  dwellings  of  the  aborigines,  with  their  stone  doors 
J  and  stone  roofs.  These  were  built  and  inhabited  by  the 
gigantic  Emim  and  Eephaim  long  before  the  Chaldean 
shepherd  migrated  from  Ur  to  Canaan  (Gen.  xiv.  5).  High 
above  them  rose  the  classic  portico  of  a  Homan  temple, 
shattered  and  tottering,  but  still  grand  in  its  ruins.  Pass¬ 
ing  between  the  columns,  I  saw  over  its  beautifully  sculp¬ 
tured  doorway  a  Greek  inscription,  telling  how,  in  the 
fourth  century,  the  temple  became  a  church,  and  was  dedi¬ 
cated  to  St.  John.  On  entering  the  building,  the  record  of 
still  another  change  appeared  on  the  cracked  plaster  of  the 
walls.  Upon  it  was  traced  in  huge  Arabic  characters  the 
well-known  motto  of  Islamism : — “  There  is  no  God  but  God , 
and  Mohammed  is  the  prophet  of  God” 

One  of  the  first  buildings  I  visited  was  the  castle,  and  on 
my  way  to  it  I  passed  a  triumphal  arch,  erected,  as  a  Latin 
inscription  tells  us,  in  honour  of  Julius,  prefect  of  the  first 
Parthian  Philippine  legion.  It  was  most  likely  built  during 
the  reign  of  the  emperor  Philip,  who  was  a  native  of  Boz- 
rah.  The  castle  stands  on  the  south  side  of  the  city,  with¬ 
out  the  walls ;  and  forming  a  separate  fortress,  was  fitted 
at  once  to  defend  and  command  the  town.  It  is  of  great 
size  and  strength,  and  the  outer  walls,  towers,  gate,  and 
moat  are  nearly  perfect;  but  the  interior  is  ruinous.  On 
the  basement  are  immense  vaulted  tanks,  stores,  and  gal- 


THE  RUINS  OF  BOZRAH. 


69 


leries ;  and  over  them  were  chambers  sufficient  to  accommo¬ 
date  a  small  army.  In  the  very  centre  of  the  structure, 
supported  on  massive  piers  and  arches,  are  the  remains  of 
a  theatre.  This  splendid  monument  of  the  luxury  and 
magnificence  of  former  days  was  so  designed  that  the  spec¬ 
tators  commanded  a  view  of  the  city  and  the  whole  plain 
beyond  it  to  the  base  of  Hermon.  The  building  is  a  semi¬ 
circle,  270  feet  in  diameter,  and  open,  above,  like  all  Roman 
theatres.  It  was  no  doubt  intended  for  the  amusement  of 
the  Roman  garrison,  when  Bostra  was  the  capital  of  a  prov¬ 
ince  and  the  headquarters  of  a  legion.* 

The  keep  is  a  huge  square  tower,  rising  high  above  the 
battlements,  and  overlooking  the  plains  of  Bashan  and 
Moab.  From  it  I  saw  that  Bozrah  was  in  ancient  times 
connected  by  a  series  of  great  highways  with  the  leading 
cities  and  districts  in  Bashan  and  Arabia.  They  diverge 
from  the  city  in  straight  lines ;  and  my  eye  followed  one 
after  another  till  it  disappeared  in  the  far  distance.  One 
ran  westward  to  the  town  of  Ghusam,  and  then  to  Edrei ; 
another  northward  to  Suweideh  and  Damascus;  another 
north-west,  up  among  the  mountains  of  Bashan ;  another  to 
Kerioth ;  and  another  eastward,  straight  as  an.  arrow,  to 
the  castle  of  Salcah,  which  crowned  a  conical  hill  on  the 
horizon.  Towns  and  villages  appeared  in  every  direction, 
thickly  dotting  the  vast  plain ;  a  few  of  those  to  the  north 
are  inhabited,  but  all  those  southward  have  been  deserted 
for  centuries.  I  examined  them  long  and  carefully  with  my 
telescope,  and  their  walls  and  houses  appeared  to  be  in  even 
better  preservation  than  those  I  had  already  visited.  This 
has  since  been  found  to  be  the  case,  for  my  friend  Mr.  Cyril 

♦This  opinion  has  been  questioned  by  M.  Rey,  an  accomplished  French  savant ,  who 
In  the  year  1858  retraced  my  footsteps  through  Bashan,  and  reviewed  my  “ Five  Years  in 
Damascus ”  as  lie  went  along.  I  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  M.  Rey  on  several  occa¬ 
sions,  and  was  impressed  alike  with  his  gentlemanly  deportment  and  accomplished 
scholarship ;  but  being  an  intimate  friend  of  M.  De  Saulcy,  whose  pretended  discoveries 
in  and  around  Damascus  I  had  criticized  perhaps  a  little  too  severely,  I  am  not  surprised 
that  he  should  make  an  occasional  attempt  at  retaliation. 


70 


BASHAN  AND  ITS  GIANT  CITIES. 


Graham  visited  them,  penetrating  this  wild  and  dangerous 
country  as  far  as  Um  el  Jemal,  the  Beth-gamul  of  Scripture 
which  I  saw  from  Bozrah,  and  to  which  I  called  his  special 
attention.  Beth-gamul  is  unquestionably  one  of  the  most  re¬ 
markable  places  east  of  the  J ordan.  It  is  as  large  as  Bozrah. 
It  is  surrounded  by  high  walls,  and  contains  many  massive 
houses  built  of  huge  blocks  of  basalt ;  their  roofs  and  doors, 
and  even  the  gates  of  the  city,  being  formed  of  the  same 
material.  Though  deserted  for  many  centuries,  the  houses, 
streets,  walls,  and  gates  are  in  as  perfect  preservation  as  if 
the  city  had  been  inhabited  until  within  the  last  few  years. 
It  is  curious  to  note  the  change  that  has  taken  place  in  the 
name.  What  the  Hebrews  called  “  The  house  of  the 
camel,”  the  Arabs  now  call  “  The  mother  of  the  camel.” 

I  cannot  tell  how  deeply  I  was  impressed  when  looking 
out  over  that  noble  plain,  rivalling  in  richness  of  soil  the 
best  of  England’s  counties,  thickly  studded  with  cities, 
towns,  and  villages,  intersected  with  roads,  having  one  of 
the  finest  climates  in  the  world ;  and  yet  utterly  deserted, 
literally  “  without  man ,  without  inhabitant ,  and  icithout 
beast  ”  (Isa.  xxxiii.  10).  I  cannot  tell  with  what  mingled 
feelings  of  sorrow  and  of  joy,  of  mourning  and  of  thanks¬ 
giving,  of  fear  and  of  faith,  I  reflected  on  the  history  of  that 
land ;  and  taking  out  my  Bible  compared  its  existing  state, 
as  seen  with  my  own  eyes,  with  the  numerous  predictions 
regarding  it  written  by  the  Hebrew  prophets.  In  their 
day  it  was  populous  and  prosperous ;  the  fields  waved  with 
corn ;  the  hill-sides  were  covered  with  flocks  and  herds ;  the 
highways  were  thronged  with  wayfarers ;  the  cities  resound¬ 
ed  with  the  continuous  din  of  a  busy  population.  And  yet 
they  wrote  as  if  they  had  seen  the  land  as  I  saw  it  from  the 
ramparts  of  Bozrah.  The  Spirit  of  the  omniscient  God 
alone  could  have  guided  the  hand  that  penned  such  pre¬ 
dictions  as  these :  “  Then  said  I,  Lord,  how  long  ?  And  he 
answered,  Until  the  cities  be  wasted  without  inliabitaiit , 
and  the  houses  without  man ,  and  the  land  be  utterly  deso* 


CHURCH  AND  MOSQUE  AT  BOZRAH. 


71 


late ,  and  the  Lord  hath  removed  men  far  away ,  and  there 
be  a  great  forsaking  in  the  midst  of  the  land ”  (Isa.  vi.  11, 
12).  “ The  destroyer  of  the  Gentiles  is  on  his  way  /  he  is 

gone  forth  from  his  place  to  make  thy  land  desolate  ;  and 
thy  cities  shall  be  laid  waste  without  an  inhabitant  ”  (Jer. 
iv.  7). 

In  former  times  a  garrison  was  maintained  in  the  castle 
of  Bozrah  by  the  Pasha  of  Damascus,  for  the  purpose  of 
defending  the  southern  sections  of  Bashan  from  the  periodi¬ 
cal  incursions  of  the  Bedawin.  It  has  been  withdrawn  for 
many  years.  The  “  Destroyer  of  the  Gentiles  ”  can  now 
come  up  unrestrained,  “  the  spoilers”  can  now  “  come  upon 
all  high  places  through  the  wilderness,”  the  sword  now 
“  devours  from  the  one  end  of  the  land  even  to  the  other 
end  of  the  land”  (Jer.  xii.  12) ;  the  cities  are  “without  in¬ 
habitant,”  the  houses  are  “  without  man,”  the  land  is  “  ut¬ 
terly  desolate,”  judgment  has  come  upon  it  all  far  and 
near ;  in  a  word,  the  whiole  of  Bashan  and  Moab  is  one 

GREAT  FULFILLED  PROPHECY. 

We  were  conducted  by  our  intelligent  guide  to  a  large 
church,  apparently  the  ancient  cathedral  of  Bozrah.  It  is 
built  in  the  form  of  a  Greek  cross,  and  on  the  walls  of  the 
chancel  are  some  remains  of  rude  frescoes,  representing 
saints  and  angels.  Over  the  door  is  an  inscription  stating 
that  the  church  was  founded  “  by  Julianus,  archbishop)  of 
Bostra,  in  the  year  a.d.  513,  in  honour  of  the  blessed  mar¬ 
tyrs  Sergius,  Bacchus,  and  Leontius.”  Our  guide  called 
the  building  “  the  church  of  the  monk  Bohira ;”  and  a  very 
old  tradition  represents  this  monk  as  playing  an  important 
part  in  the  early  history  of  Mohammedanism.  It  is  said  he 
was  a  native  of  this  city,  and  that,  being  expelled  from  his 
convent,  he  joined  the  Arabian  prophet,  and  aided  in  writ¬ 
ing  the  Koran,  supplying  all  those  stories  from  the  Bible, 
the  Talmud,  and  the  spurious  Gospels,  which  make  up  so 
large  a  part  of  that  remarkable  book. 

Not  far  from  the  church  is  the  principal  mosque,  built,  it 
4 


72 


BASHAN  AND  ITS  GIANT  CITIES. 


is  said,  by  the  Khalif  Omar.  The  roof  was  supported  on 
colonnades,  like  the  early  basilicas ;  and  seventeen  of  the 
columns  are  monoliths  of  white  marble,  of  great  beauty. 
Two  of  them  have  inscriptions  showing  that  they  formerly 
belonged  to  some  church,  but  probably  they  were  originally 
intended  to  ornament  a  Greek  temple. 

We  extended  our  walk  one  day  to  the  suburbs  on  the 
north  and  west,  where  there  are  remains  of  some  large  and 
splendid  buildings.  We  then  proceeded  to  the  west  gate, 
at  the  end  of  the  main  street.  The  ancient  pavement  of  the 
street,  and  of  the  road  which  runs  across  the  plain  to  Ghu- 
sam,  is  quite  perfect, — not  a  stone  out  of  place.  The  gate 
has  a  single  but  spacious  Roman  arch,  ornamented  with 
pilasters  and  niches.  Outside  is  a  guard-house  of  the 
same  style  and  period.  Sitting  down  on  the  broken  wall 
of  this  little  building,  I  gazed  long  on  the  ruins  of  the  city, 
and  on  the  vast  deserted  plain.  My  companions  had  taken 
shelter  from  a  shower  in  a  vacant  niche ;  and  now  there 
was  not  a  human  being,  there  was  not  a  sign  of  life,  within 
the  range  of  vision.  The  open  gate  revealed  heaps  of  rub¬ 
bish  and  piles  of  stones,  and  shattered  walls.  In  the  dis¬ 
tance  a  solitary  column  stood  here  and  there,  and  the  trium¬ 
phal  arch  which  rose  over  all  around  it,  appeared  as  if 
built  to  celebrate  the  triumph  of  Desolation.  The  deso¬ 
lation  of  the  plain  without  was  as  complete  as  that  of  the 
city  within.  Never  before  had  I  seen  such  a  picture  of  ut¬ 
ter,  terrible  desolation,  except  at  Palmyra ;  and  even  there 
it  was  not  so  remarkable.  That  “  city  of  the  desert  ” 
might  rise  and  flourish  for  a  season,  while  the  tide  of  com¬ 
merce  was  rolling  past  it,  and  while  it  stood  a  solitary  oasis 
on  the  desert  highway  uniting  the  eastern  and  western 
worlds ;  but  on  the  opening  up  of  some  other  channel  of 
communication,  it  might  naturally  decline  and  fall.  Boz- 
rah  is  altogether  different.  It  was  situated  in  the  midst  of 
a  fertile  plain,  in  the  centre  of  a  populous  province.  It  had 
abundant  resources,  fountains  of  water,  an  impregnable 


HISTORY  OF  BOZRAH. 


73 


fortress.  Why  should  Bozrah  become  desolate  ?  Who 
would  have  ventured  to  predict  its  ruin  ?  It  surely  was  no 
city  to  grow  up  in  a  day  and  fade  in  a  night !  It  surely 
did  not  depend  for  prosperity  on  the  changeable  channel 
of  commerce  !  Something  above  and  beyond  mere  natural 
causes  and  influences  must  have  operated  here.  We  can 
only  understand  its  strange  history  when  we  read  it  in  the 
light  of  prophecy.  Then  we  can  see  the  impress  of  a 
mightier  than  human  hand.  W e  can  see  that  the  curse  of 
an  angry  God  for  the  sin  of  a  rebellious  people  has  fallen 
upon  Bozrah,  “  and  upon  all  the  cities  of  the  land  of  Moab 
far  and  near  ”  (Jer.  xlviii.  24). 

Two  Bozrahs  are  mentioned  in  the  Bible.  One  was  in 
Edom,  and  is  referred  to  in  the  well-known  passage,  “  Who 
is  this  that  cometh  from  Edom,  with  dyed  garments  from 
Bozrah  (Isa.  lxiii.  1).  Upon  this  ancient  city  judgments 
are  pronounced  in  connection  with  Edom  and  Teman,  whose 
inhabitants  dwelt  “in  the  clefts  of  the  rocks,”  and  the 
“  heights  of  the  hills,”  and  made  their  houses  “  like  the 
nests  of  the  eagles”  (Jer.  xlix.  7-22).  When  pronouncing 
judgment  upon  Moab,  the  same  prophet  says,  “Judgment 
is  come  upon  the  plain  country ,”  and  he  names  the  cities 
which  stood  in  the  plain,  and  among  them  are  Beth-gamul, 
Kerioth,  and  Bozrah  (Jer.  xlviii.  21-24).  Evidently  these 
predictions  cannot  refer  to  the  same  place.  Another  fact 
still  more  conclusively  establishes  the  point.  After  com¬ 
pleting  the  sentence  of  Moab,  including  one  Bozrah,  the 
Spirit  of  God  adds,  “Yet  will  I  bring  again  the  captivity 
of  Moab  in  the  latter  days”  (Jer.  xlviii.  47);  whereas  in 
Edom’s  doom  we  have  these  terrible  words,  “For  I  have 
sworn  by  myself,  saith  the  Lord,  that  Bozrah  shall  become 
a  desolation,  a  reproach,  a  waste,  and  a  curse ;  and  all  the 
cities  thereof  shall  b e,  perpetual  wastes  ”  (Jer.  xlix.  13).* 


*  Modern  research  in  this,  as  in  many  other  cases,  has  confirmed  the  accuracy  of  Bibli¬ 
cal  topography.  The  Bozrah  of  Edom  has  been  identified  with  the  village  of  Buseireh, 
among  the  mountains  north  of  Petra ;  and  here,  in  the  plain,  we  have  the  Bozrah  cf 


71 


BASHAN  AND  ITS  GIANT  CITIES. 


The  plain  of  Moab  embraced  a  large  part  of  the  plateau 
east  of  the  Dead  Sea  and  the  Jordan.  A  short  time  before 
the  exodus  the  Amorites  conquered  the  northern  part  of 
that  plain ;  and  from  them  it  was  taken  by  the  tribes  of 
Reuben  and  Gad.  It  is  doubtful  whether  the  Moabites 
were  ever  completely  expelled.  They  probably  retired  for 
a  time  to  the  desert,  and  when  Israel’s  power  declined,  re¬ 
turned  to  their  old  possessions.  The  predictions  of  Jere¬ 
miah  refer  to  cities  once  held  by  the  Israelites,  yet  in  his 
days  belonging  to  Moab ;  hence  he  includes  Bozrah  in  the 
land  of  Moab.  Subsequently,  Bozrah  became  the  capital 
of  a  large  Roman  province ;  then  the  metropolitan  city  of 
Eastern  Palestine,  when  its  primate  had  thirty-three  bish¬ 
ops  under  him;  then  it  was  captured  by  the  Mohamme¬ 
dans,  and  gradually  fell  to  ruin.  Now  we  can  see  that  the 
prophet’s  words  are  fulfilled,  “  Judgment  has  come  upon 
Bozrah .” 

DESERTED  CITIES. 

We  had  not  gone  more  than  four  miles  from  Bozrah  when 
an  alarm  was  raised.  The  people  of  Bozrah  had  told  us, 
and  we  had  known  ourselves,  that  though  the  country  on 
our  jiroposed  route  is  thickly  studded  with  towns  and  vil¬ 
lages,  yet  not  a  single  human  being  dwells  in  them.  When 
approaching  the  village  of  Burd  we  saw  figures  moving 
about.  At  first  we  thought  some  shepherds  had  taken  re¬ 
fuge  there  with  their  fiocks ;  but  it  very  soon  became  appar¬ 
ent  that  the  figures  were  not  shepherds.  Considerable  num¬ 
bers  collected  on  the  flat  house-tops,  and  we  could  see  horses 
led  out  and  held  beneath  the  Avails.  They  evidently  saw 
us,  and  were  preparing  for  an  attack.  We  held  a  council 

Moab.  I  was  somewhat  surprised  recently  to  find  that  the  writer  of  the  article  Bozrah, 
in  “  Fairbairn’s  Dictionary  of  the  Bible,”  charges  me  with  holding  the  opinion  of  Kitto 
and  others,  that  Bozrah  of  Edom,  Bozrah  of  Moab,  and  modern  Busrah,  are  identical.  I 
never  held  such  an  opinion.  I  have  always  affirmed,  that  Bozrah  of  Edom  and  Bozrah  of 
Moab  were  distinct  cities ;  and  had  the  writer  of  the  article  mentioned  turned  to  my 
“  Five  Years  in  Damascus,”  vol.  ii.  p.  160,  or  to  my  “  Handbook,”  or  to  the  article  Bozrah 
In  the  last  edition  of  “  Kitto’s  Cyclopedia,”  he  would  have  seen  this. 


DESERTED  CITIES. 


75 


of  war,  and  resolved  unanimously  to  go  forward,  and  if  at¬ 
tacked  to  meet  the  enemy  boldly.  Mahmood,  after  exam¬ 
ining  his  gun  and  pistols,  and  loosening  his  sword  in  its 
scabbard,  galloped  oft'  to  reconnoitre.  A  horseman  came 
out  to  meet  him.  I  confess  it  was  rather  an  anxious  mo¬ 
ment,  but  it  did  not  last  long.  A  few  words  were  spoken, 
and  Mahmood  came  back  with  the  welcome  intelligence 
that  a  little  colony  of  Druses  had  migrated  to  the  village 
two  days  previously.  They  were  as  much  alarmed  at  us  as 
we  were  at  them.  So  it  is  always  now  in  this  unfortunate 
land,  where  the  Ishmaelite  roams  free — “  His  hand  against 
every  man  and  every  man’s  hand  against  him.”  Every 
stranger  is  looked  upon  as  an  enemy  until  he  is  proved  to 
be  a  friend.  The  time  and  events  so  graphically  depicted 
by  Jeremiah  have  come:  “  0  inhabitant  of  Aroer,  stand 
by  the  way  and  espy :  ash  him  that  fleetli ,  and  her  that  es- 
capeth ,  and  say ,  What  is  done?  ”  (Jer. xlviii.  19.) 

We  rode  on  along  the  Roman  road,  stopping  occasionally 
to  examine  with  our  glasses  the  deserted  towns  away  to  the 
right  and  left,  and  once  or  twice  galloping  to  those  near  the 
road,  so  as  to  inspect  their  strange  massive  houses,  standing 
complete,  but  tenantless.  Often  and  often  did  our  eyes 
sweep  the  open  plain,  and  scan  suspicious  ruins,  and  peer 
into  valleys,  in  the  fear  or  hope  of  discovering  roving 
Ishmaelites.  We  were  almost  disappointed  that  none  ap¬ 
peared. 

Soon  after  leaving  Burd,  we  entered  a  rocky  district ;  and 
here,  among  the  rocks,  we  found  some  fields  where  a  few 
Druses  were  ploughing,  each  man  having  his  gun  slung 
over  his  shoulders,  and  pistols  in  his  belt.  This  is  surely 
cultivation  under  difficulties.  From  this  place  until  we 
reached  Salcah,  we  did  not  see  a  living  creature,  except  a 
flock  of  partridges  and  a  herd  of  gazelles.  The  desert  of 
Arabia  is  not  more  desolate  than  this  rich  and  once  popu¬ 
lous  plain  of  Moab. 


76 


BASHAN  AND  ITS  GIANT  CITIES. 


SALCAH. 

Joshua  tells  us  that  the  kingdom  of  Og  the  giant  included 
11  all  Bashan  unto  Salcah ”  (Josh.  xiii.  11,  12) ;  and  the  Is¬ 
raelites  took  and  occupied  the  whole  region  from  Mount 
Hermon  “  unto  Salcah.”  Salcah,  the  eastern  frontier  city  of 
Bashan,  was  now  before  me ;  its  great  old  castle  perched  on 
the  top  of  a  conical  hill,  overlooking  a  boundless  plain,  and 
the  city  itself  sjwead  along  its  sloping  sides,  and  reaching 
oui  into  the  valley  below.  I  felt  glad  and  thankful  that  I 
was  privileged  to  reach  the  utmost  eastern  border  of  Pales¬ 
tine.  I  had  previously  explored  its  northern  border  away 
on  the  plain  of  Hamath  and  on  the  heights  of  Lebanon,  and 
its  western  border  from  Tripoli  to  Joppa;  and  since  that 
time  I  have  traversed  the  southern  border  from  Gaza  east¬ 
ward. 

Salcah  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  cities  in  Palestine. 
It  has  been  long  deserted ;  and  yet,  as  nearly  as  I  could  es¬ 
timate,  Jive  hundred  of  its  houses  are  still  standing,  and 
from  three  to  four  hundred  families  might  settle  in  it  at  any 
moment  without  laying  a  stone,  or  expending  an  hour’s  la¬ 
bour  on  repairs.  The  circumference  of  the  town  and  castle 
together  is  about  three  miles.  Besides  the  castle,  a  number 
of  square  towers,  like  the  belfries  of  churches,  and  a  few 
mosques,  appear  to  be  the  only  public  buildings. 

On  approaching  Salcah,  we  rode  through  an  old  ceme¬ 
tery,  and  then,  passing  the  ruins  of  an  ancient  gate,  entered 
the  streets  of  the  deserted  city.  The  open  doors,  the  empty 
houses,  the  rank  grass  and  weeds,  the  long  straggling  bram¬ 
bles  in  the  door-ways  and  windows,  formed  a  strange,  im¬ 
pressive  picture  which  can  never  leave  my  memory.  Street 
after  street  we  traversed,  the  tread  of  our  horses  awakening 
mournful  echoes,  and  startling  the  foxes  from  their  dens  in 
the  palaces  of  Salcah.  Reaching  an  open  paved  area,  in 
front  of  the  principal  mosque,  we  committed  our  horses  to 
the  keeping  of  Mahmood,  who  tied  them  up,  unstrung  his 


CASTLE  OF  SALCAH. 


77 


gun,  and  sat  down  to  act  the  part  of  sentry,  while  we  ex¬ 
plored  the  city. 

The  castle  occupies  the  summit  of  a  steep  conical  hill 
which  rises  to  the  height  of  some  three  hundred  feet,  and  is 
the  southern  point  of  the  mountain  range  of  Baslian.  Round 
the  base  of  the  hill  is  a  deep  moat,  and  another  still  deeper 
encircles  the  walls  of  the  fortress.  The  building  is  a  patch- 
work  of  various  periods  and  nations.  The  foundations  are 
Jewish,  if  not  earlier;  Roman  rustic  masonry  appears  above 
them ;  and  over  ail  is  lighter  Saracenic  work,  with  beauti¬ 
fully  interlaced  inscriptions.  The  exterior  walls  are  not 
much  defaced,  but  the  interior  is  one  confused  mass  of 
ruins. 

The  view  from  the  top  is  wide  and  wonderfully  interest¬ 
ing.  It  embraces  the  whole  southern  slopes  of  the  moun¬ 
tains,  which,  though  rocky,  are  covered  from  bottom  to  top 
with  artificial  terraces,  and  fields  divided  by  stone  fences. 
From  their  base  the  plain  of  Bashan  stretches  out  on  the 
west  to  Hermon ;  the  plain  of  Moab  on  the  south,  to  the 
horizon ;  and  the  plain  of  Arabia  on  the  east,  beyond  the 
range  of  vision.  For  more  than  an  hour  I  sat  gazing  on 
that  vast  panorama.  Wherever  I  turned  my  eyes  towns 
and  villages  were  seen.  Bozrah  was  there  on  its  plain, 
twelve  miles  distant.  The  towers  of  Beth-Gamul  were 
faintly  visible  far  away  on  the  horizon.  In  the  vale  imme¬ 
diately  to  the  south  of  Salcah  are  several  deserted  towns, 
wrhose  names  I  could  not  ascertain.  Three  miles  off,  in  the 
same  direction,  is  a  hill  called  Abd  el-Maaz,  with  a  large 
deserted  town  on  its  eastern  side.  To  the  south-east  an  an¬ 
cient  road  runs  straight  across  the  plain  as  far  as  the  eye 
can  see.  About  six  miles  along  it,  on  the  top  of  a  hill,  is 
the  deserted  town  of  Maleh.  On  the  section  of  the  plain 
between  south  and  east  I  counted  fourteen  towns,  all  of 
them,  so  far  as  I  could  see  with  my  telescope,  habitable  like 
Salcah,  but  entirely  deserted!  From  this  one  spot  I  saw 
upwards  of  thirty  deserted  towns!  Well  might  I  exclaim 


78 


BASH  AN  AND  ITS  GIANT  CITIES. 


with  the  prophet,  as  I  sat  on  the  ruins  of  this  great  fortress, 
and  looked  over  that  mournful  scene  of  utter  desolation, 

uMoab  is  spoiled ,  and  gone  up  out  of  her  cities . Moab 

is  confounded  /  for  it  is  broken  down:  hotel  and  cry  /  tell 
ye  it  in  Arnon  that  Moab  is  spoiled ,  and  judgment  is  come 

upon  the  plain  country . Upon  JKiriathaim ,  and  upon 

JBeth-gamul ,  and  upon  Beth-meon ,  and  upon  Kerioth , 
upon  Bozrah ,  and  upon  all  the  cities  of  the  land  of  Moab, 
far  and  near  ”  (Jer.  xlviii.  15-24). 

Another  feature  of  the  landscape  impressed  me  still  more 
deeply.  Not  only  is  the  country — plain  and  hill-side  alike — 
chequered  with  fenced  fields,  hut  groves  of  fig-trees  are  here 
and  there  seen,  and  terraced  vineyards  still  clothe  the  sides 
of  some  of  the  hills.  These  are  neglected  and  wild,  hut  not 
fruitless.  Mahmood  told  us  that  they  produce  great  quan¬ 
tities  of  figs  and  grapes,  which  are  rifled  year  after  year  hy 
the  Bedawin  in  their  periodical  raids.  How  literal  and  how 
true  have  the  words  of  Jeremiah  become!  “ 0  vine  of 
jSibmah ,  I  will  weep  for  thee  loith  the  weeping  of  Jazer : 

.  .  .  the  spoiler  is  fallen  upon  thy  summer  fruits ,  and 
upon  thy  vintage.  And  joy  and  gladness  is  taken  from 
the  plentiful  field ,  and  from  the  land  of  Moab  /  and  1 
have  caused  wine  to  fail  from  the  wine-presses  /  none 
shall  tread  with  shouting  ”  (Jer.  xlviii.  32,  33).  Nowhere 
on  earth  is  there  such  a  melancholy  example  of  tyranny,  ra¬ 
pacity,  and  misrule,  as  here.  Fields,  pastures,  vineyards, 
houses,  villages,  cities — all  alike  deserted  and  waste.  Even 
the  few  inhabitants  that  have  hid  themselves  amon^  the 
rocky  fastnesses  and  mountain  defiles  drag  out  a  miserable 
existence,  oppressed  by  robbers  of  the  desert  on  the  one 
hand,  and  robbers  of  the  government  on  the  other.  It 
would  seem  as  if  the  people  of  Moab  had  heard  the  injunc¬ 
tion  of  Jeremiah  :  “O  ye  that  dwell  in  Moab,  leave  the 
cities  and  dwell  in  the  rock ,  and  be  like  the  dove  that  mak- 
eth  her  nest  in  the  side  of  the  holers  mouth  A  And  even 
thus  they  cannot  escape,  for  u  He  that  fleeth  shall  fall  into 


DESCKIPTIOX  OF  BETH-GAMUL. 


79 


the  pit ;  and  he  that  getteth  up  out  of  the  pit  shall  be  taken 
in  the  snare :  for  I  will  bring  upon  it,  even  upon  Moab,  the 
year  of  their  visitation,  saith  the  Lord”  (Jer.  xlviii.  28,  44). 


y. 

“Judgment  is  come  upon  all  the  cities  of  the  land  of  Moab,  far  and  near.” 

Salcah  is  situated  on  the  south-eastern  corner  of  Bashan. 
Standing  on  the  lofty  battlements  of  its  castle,  Moab  and 
Arabia  lay  before  me — the  former  on  the  right,  the  latter 
on  the  left,  each  a  boundless  plain  reaching  from  the  city 
walls  to  the  horizon.  Behind  me  rose  in  terraced  slopes  the 
mountains  of  Bashan,  and  over  their  southern  declivities 
the  eye  took  in  a  wide  expanse  of  its  plain.  Everywhere  on 
that  vast  panorama, — on  plain  and  mountain  side,  in  Bashan, 
Moab,  and  Arabia,  far  as  the  eye  could  see  and  the  telescope 
command, — were  towns  and  villages  thickly  scattered ;  and 
all  deserted,  though  not  ruined.  Many  people  might  have 
thought,  and  a  few  still  believe,  that  there  was  a  large 
amount  of  Eastern  exaggeration  in  the  language  of  Moses 
when  describing  the  conquest  of  this  country  three  thousand 
years  ago:  “We  took  all  his  cities  at  that  time,  ....  three¬ 
score  cities ,  all  the  region  of  Argob,  the  kingdom  of  Og  in 
Bashan.  All  these  cities  were  fenced  with  high  walls ,  gates , 
and  bars  /  beside  unwalled  towns  a  great  many  ”  (Deut.  iii. 
4,  5).  No  man  who  has  traversed  Bashan,  or  who  has  climb¬ 
ed  the  hill  of  Salcah,  will  ever  again  venture  to  bring  such  a 
charge  against  the  sacred  historian.  The  walled  cities,  with 
their  ponderous  gates  of  stone,  are  there  now  as  they  Avere 
Avhen  the  Israelites  invaded  the  land.  The  great  numbers 
of  uirwalled  toAvns  are  there  too,  standing  testimonies  to 
the  truth  and  accuracy  of  Moses,  and  monumental  protests 
against  the  poetical  interpretations  of  modern  rationalists. 
There  are  the  roads  once  thronged  by  the  teeming  popula¬ 
tion:  there  are  the  fields  they  enclosed  and  cultivated; 


80 


BASHAN  AND  ITS  GIANT  CITIES. 


there  are  the  terraces  they  built  up ;  there  are  the  vine¬ 
yards  and  orchards  they  planted ;  all  alike  desolate,  not  po¬ 
etically  or  ideally,  but  literally  “  without  man,  and  without 
inhabitant,  and  without  beast.” 

My  friend  Mr.  Cyril  Graham,  who  followed  so  far  in  my 
track,  and  who  was  the  first  of  European  travellers  to  pene¬ 
trate  those  plains  beyond,  which  I  have  been  trying  to  de¬ 
scribe,  bears  his  testimony  to  the  literal  fulfilment  of  proph¬ 
ecy.  Some  of  his  descriptions  of  what  he  saw  are  exceed¬ 
ingly  interesting  and  graphic ;  and  one  is  only  sorry  that  they 
are  so  very  brief.  Of  Beth-gamul  he  says :  “  On  reaching  this 
city,  I  left  my  Arabs  at  one  particular  spot,  and  wandered 
about  quite  alone  in  the  old  streets  of  the  town,  entered  one 
by  one  the  old  houses,  went  up  stairs,  visited  the  rooms, 
and,  in  short,  made  a  careful  examination  of  the  whole 
place ;  but  so  perfect  Avas  every  street,  every  house,  eveiy 
room,  that  I  almost  fancied  I  Avas  in  a  dream,  wandering 
alone  in  this  city  of  the  dead,  seeing  all  perfect,  yet  not 
hearing  a  sound.  I  don’t  Avish  to  moralize  too  much,  but 
one  cannot  help  reflecting  on  a  people  once  so  great  and  so 
powerful,  who,  living  in  these  houses  of  stone  Avithin  their 
walled  cities,  must  have  thought  themselves  invincible ;  Avho 
had  their  palaces  and  their  sculptures,  and  Avho,  no  doubt, 
claimed  to  be  the  great  nation,  as  all  Eastern  nations  have 
done ;  and  that  this  people  should  have  so  passed  aAvay,  that 
for  so  many  centuries  the  country  they  inhabited  has  been 
reckoned  as  a  desert,  until  some  traveller  from  a  distant 
land,  curious  to  explore  these  regions,  finds  these  old  toAvns 
standing  alone,  and  telling  of  a  race  long  gone  by,  Avhose 
history  is  unknoAvn,  and  Avhose  Arery  name  is  matter  of  dis¬ 
pute.  Yet  this  very  state  of  things  is  predicted  by  Jere¬ 
miah.  Concerning  this  very  country  he  says  these  very 
words, — 4  For  the  cities  thereof  shall  be  desolate ,  without 
any  to  dwell  therein  ’  (Jer.  xlviii.  9) ;  and  the  people  (Moab) 

‘ shall  be  destroyed  from  being  a  p>eople'>  (ver.  42).  Here 
I  think  there  can  be  no  ambiguity.  Visit  these  ancient  cit- 


FULFILMENT  OF  PROPHECY. 


81 


ies,  and  turn  to  that  ancient  Book — no  further  comment  is 
necessary.” 

No  less  than  eleven  of  the  old  cities  which  I  saw  from 
Salcah,  lying  between  Bozrah  and  Beth-gamul,  were  visited 
by  Mr.  Graham.  Their  ramparts,  their  houses,  their  streets, 
their  gates  and  doors,  are  nearly  all  perfect ;  and  yet  they 
are  “  desolate  without  many  This  enterprising  and  daring 
traveller  also  made  a  long  journey  into  the  hitherto  unex¬ 
plored  country  east  of  the  mountains  of  Bashan.  There  he 
found  ancient  cities,  and  roads,  and  vast  numbers  of  inscrip¬ 
tions  in  unknown  characters,  but  not  a  single  inhabitant. 
The  towns  and  villao;es  east  of  the  mountain  rano;e  are  all, 
without  exception,  deserted;  the  soil  is  uncultivated,  and 
“the  highways  lie  waste.”  In  the  whole  of  those  vast 
plains,  north  and  south,  east  and  west,  Desolation  reigns 
supreme.  The  cities,  the  highways,  the  vineyards,  the 
fields,  are  all  alike  silent  as  the  grave,  except  during  the  pe¬ 
riodical  migrations  of  the  Bedawin,  whose  flocks,  herds,  and 
people  eat,  trample  down,  and  waste  all  before  them.  The 
long  predicted  doom  of  Moab  is  now  fulfilled :  “  The  spoiler 
shall  come  upon  every  city ,  and  no  city  shall  escape :  the 
valley  also  shall  perish ,  and  the  plain  shall  be  destroyed , 
as  the  Lord  hath  spoken.  Give  wings  unto  Moab ,  that 
it  may  flee  and  get  away ;  for  the  cities  thereof  shall 
be  desolate ,  without  any  to  dwell  therein .”  ....  But  why 
should  I  transcribe  more  ?  Why  should  I  continue  to  com¬ 
pare  the  predictions  of  the  Bible  with  the  state  of  the 
country?  The  harmony  is  complete.  No  traveller  can  pos¬ 
sibly  fail  to  see  it ;  and  no  conscientious  man  can  fail  to 
acknowledge  it.  The  best,  the  fullest,  the  most  instructive 
commentary  I  ever  saw  on  the  forty-eighth  chapter  of  Jer¬ 
emiah,  was  that  inscribed  by  the  finger  of  God  on  the  pan¬ 
orama  spread  out  around  me  as  I  stood  on  the  battlements 
of  the  castle  of  Salcah. 

It  was  a  sad  and  solemn  scene, — a  scene  of  utter  and 
terrible  desolation, — the  result  of  sin  and  folly ;  and  yet  I 


82 


BASHAN  AND  ITS  GIANT  CITIES. 


turned  away  from  it  with  much  reluctance.  I  would  gladly 
have  seen  more  of  those  old  cities,  and  penetrated  farther 
into  that  uninhabited  plain.  A  tempting  field  lay  there  for 
the  ecclesiastical  antiquarian  and  the  student  of  sacred  his¬ 
tory  ;  but  the  time  was  not  suitable  for  such  a  journey,  and 
other  duties  summoned  me  away.* 

Remounting  our  horses  we  rode  along  the  silent  streets 
and  passed  out  of  the  deserted  gates  into  the  desolate 
country.  After  winding  down  the  steep  hill-side  amid 
mounds  of  rubbish  we  halted  in  the  centre  of  an  ancient 
cemetery  to  take  a  last  look  of  Salcah.  The  castle  rose  high 
over  us  on  the  crest  of  its  conical  hill,  while  the  towers, 
walls,  and  terraced  houses  of  the  city  extended  in  a  serried 
line  down  the  southern  declivity  to  the  plain,  where  they 
met  the  old  gardens  and  vineyards.  Everything  seemed  so 
complete,  so  habitable,  so  life-like,  that  once  and  again  I 
looked  and  examined  as  the  question  rose  in  my  mind, 
“  Can  this  city  be  totally  deserted?”  Yes,  it  was  so; — 
“  without  man,  and  without  beast.” 

“  Slumber  is  there,  but  not  of  rest : 

Here  her  forlorn  and  weary  nest 
The  famish’d  hawk  has  found. 

The  wild  dog  howls  at  fall  of  night. 

The  serpent’s  rustling  coils  affright 
The  traveller  on  his  round.” 

KERIOTH. 

We  turned  westward  to  Kerioth,  and  soon  fell  into  the 
line  of  the  ancient  road,  its  pavement  in  many  places  per¬ 
fect,  though  here  and  there  torn  up  and  swept  away  by 
mountain  torrents.  On  our  right,  about  two  miles  distant, 
lay  Ayun,  a  deserted  city  as  large  as  Salcah.  Kuweiris, 
Ain,  Muneiderah,  and  many  others  were  visible, — some  in 

*  Another  traveller  has  of  late  traversed  part  of  Bashan,  and  penetrated  the  desert  east¬ 
ward.  I  refer  to  Dr.  J.  O.  Wetzstein,  whom  I  had  the  pleasure  of  knowing  as  Prussian 
consul  in  Damascus.  His  little  work,  Reisebericht  uber  Hauran  und  die  Trachon'en , 
Berlin,  1860,  is  interesting  and  instructive.  It  contains  the  fullest  account  hitherto  pub¬ 
lished  of  that  remarkable  region,  the  Safa. 


STONE  GATES  AND  DOORS. 


83 


quiet  green  vales,  some  perched  like  fortresses  on  the  sides 
and  summits  of  rugged  hills.  The  country  through  which 
our  route  lay  was  very  rocky ;  hut  though  now  desolate,  the 
signs  of  former  industry  are  there.  The  loose  stones  have 
been  gathered  into  great  heaps,  and  little  fields  formed; 
and  terraces  can  be  traced  along  every  hill-side  from  bot¬ 
tom  to  top. 

In  two  hours  we  reached  Kureiyeh,  and  received  a  cor¬ 
dial  welcome  from  its  warlike  Druse  chief,  Ismail  el-Atrash. 
The  town  is  situated  in  a  wide  valley  at  the  south-western 
base  of  the  mountains  of  Bashan.  The  ruins  are  of  great 
extent,  covering  a  space  at  least  as  large  as  Salcah.  The 
houses  which  remain  have  the  same  general  appearance  as 
those  in  other  towns.  No  large  public  building  now  exists 
entire ;  but  there  are  traces  of  many ;  and  in  the  streets  and 
lanes  are  numerous  fragments  of  columns  and  other  vestiges 
of  ancient  grandeur.  I  copied  several  Greek  inscriptions 
bearing;  dates  of  the  first  and  second  centuries  in  our  era. 

Among  the  cities  in  the  plain  of  Moab  upon  which  judg¬ 
ment  is  pronounced  by  Jeremiah,  Kerioth  occurs  in  con¬ 
nection  with  Beth-gamul  and  Bozrah;  and  here,  on  the 
side  of  the  plain,  only  five  miles  distant  from  Bozrah, 
stands  Kureiyeli ,  manifestly  an  Arabic  form  of  the  He 
brew  Kerioth.  Kerioth  was  reckoned  one  of  the  strong¬ 
holds  of  the  plain  of  Moab  (Jer.  xlviii.  41).  Standing  in 
the  midst  of  wide-spread  rock-fields,  the  passes  through 
which  could  be  easily  defended ;  and  encircled  by  massive 
ramparts,  the  remains  of  which  are  still  there, — I  saw,  and 
every  traveller  can  see,  how  applicable  is  Jeremiah’s  re¬ 
ference,  and  how  strong  this  cit]r  must  once  have  been.  I 
could  not  but  remark,  too,  while  wandering  through  the 
streets  and  lanes,  that  the  private  houses  bear  the  marks  of 
the  most  remote  antiquity.  The  few  towers  and  fragments 
of  temples,  which  inscriptions  show  to  have  been  erected  in 
the  first  centuries  of  the  Christian  era,  are  modern  in  com¬ 
parison  with  the  colossal  walls  and  massive  stone  doors  of 


84 


BASIIAN  AND  ITS  GIANT  CITIES. 


the  private  houses.  The  simplicity  of  their  style,  their  low 
roofs,  the  ponderous  blocks  of  roughly  hewn  stone  with 
which  they  are  built,  the  great  thickness  of  the  walls,  and 
the  heavy  slabs  which  form  the  ceilings, — all  point  to  a 
period  far  earlier  than  the  Roman  age,  and  probably  even 
antecedent  to  the  conquest  of  the  country  by  the  Israelites. 
Moses  makes  special  mention  of  the  strong  cities  of  Bashan, 
and  speaks  of  their  high  walls  and  gates.  He  tells  us,  too, 
in  the  same  connection,  that  Bashan  was  called  the  land  of 
the  giants  (or  Rephaim,  Deut.  iii.  13);  leaving  us  to  con¬ 
clude  that  the  cities  were  built  by  giants.  Row  the  houses 
of  Kerioth  and  other  towns  in  Bashan  appear  to  be  just  such 
dwellings  as  a  race  of  giants  would  build.  Tne  walls,  the 
roofs,  but  especially  the  ponderous  gates,  doo^s  and  bars, 
are  in  every  way  characteristic  of  a  period  when  architec¬ 
ture  was  in  its  infancy,  when  giants  were  masons,  and  when 
strength  and  security  were  the  grand  requisite**.  I  meas¬ 
ured  a  door  in  Kerioth :  it  was  nine  feet  high,  four  and  a 
half  feet  wide,  and  ten  inches  thick, — one  solid  slab  of  stone. 
I  saw  the  folding  gates  of  another  town  in  the  mountains 
still  larger  and  heavier.  Time  produces  little  effect  on  such 
buildings  as  these.  The  heavy  stone  slabs  of  the  roofs  rest¬ 
ing  on  the  massive  walls  make  the  structure  as  firm  as  if 
built  of  solid  masonry ;  and  the  black  basalt  used  is  almost 
as  hard  as  iron.  There  can  scarcely  be  a  doubt,  therefore, 
that  these  are  the  very  cities  erected  and  inhabited  by  the 
Rephaim,  the  aboriginal  occupants  of  Bashan;  and  the 
language  of  Ritter  appears  to  be  true :  “  These  buildings 
remain  as  eternal  witnesses  of  the  conquest  of  Bashan  by 
Jehovah.” 

We  have  thus  at  Kerioth  and  its  sister  cities  some  of  the 
most  ancient  houses  of  which  the  world  can  boast ;  and  in 
looking  at  them  and  wandering  among  them,  and  passing 
night  after  night  in  them,  my  mind  was  led  away  back  to 
the  time,  now  nearly  four  thousand  years  ago,  when  the 
kings  of  the  East  warred  with  the  Rephaim  in  Ashteroth- 


THE  HOUSES  OF  THE  REPIIAIM. 


85 


Karnaim,  and  with  the  Emitn  in  the  plain  of  Kiriatliaim 
(Gen.  xiv.  5).  Some  of  the  houses  in  which  I  slept  were 
most  probably  standing  at  the  period  of  that  invasion. 
How  strange  to  occupy  houses  of  which  giants  were  the 
architects,  and  a  race  of  giants  the  original  owners !  The 
temples  and  tombs  of  Upper  Egypt  are  of  great  interest, 
as  the  works  of  one  of  the  most  enlightened  nations  of  an¬ 
tiquity;  the  palaces  of  Nineveh  are  still  more  interesting,  as 
the  memorials  of  a  great  city  which  lay  buried  for  two 
thousand  years ;  but  the  massive  houses  of  Kerioth  scarcely 
yield  in  interest  to  either.  They  are  antiquities  of  another 
kind.  In  size  they  cannot  vie  with  the  temples  of  Karnac ; 
in  splendoui  they  do  not  approach  the  palaces  of  Khorsa- 
bad ;  yet  they  are  the  memorials  of  a  race  of  giant  warriors 
that  has  been  extinct  for  more  than  three  thousand  years, 
and  of  which  Og,  king  of  Bashan,  was  one  of  the  last  re¬ 
presentatives  ;  and  they  are,  I  believe,  the  only  specimens 
in  the  world  of  the  ordinary  private  dwellings  of  remote 
antiquity.  The  monuments  designed  by  the  genius  and 
reared  by  the  wealth  of  imperial  Rome  are  fast  mouldering 
to  ruin  in  this  land ;  temples,  palaces,  tombs,  fortresses,  are 
all  shattered,  or  prostrate  in  the  dust ;  but  the  simple,  mas¬ 
sive  houses  of  the  Rephaim  are  in  many  cases  perfect  as  if 
only  completed  yesterday. 

It  is  worthy  of  note  here,  as  tending  to  prove  the  truth 
of  my  statements,  and  to  illustrate  the  words  of  the  sacred 
writers,  that  the  towns  of  Bashan  were  considered  ancient 
oven  in  the  days  of  the  Roman  historian  Ammianus  Mar- 
eellinus,  who  says  regarding  this  country:  “Fortresses  and 
strong  castles  have  been  erected  by  the  ancient  inhabitants 
among  the  retired  mountains  and  forests.  Here  in  the 
midst  of  numerous  towns ,  are  some  great  cities,  such  as 
Bostra  and  Gerasa,  encompassed  by  massive  walls.”  Mr. 
Graham,  the  only  other  traveller  since  Burckhardt,  who 
traversed  eastern  Bashan,  entirely  agrees  with  me  in  my 
conclusions.  “  When  we  find,”  he  writes,  “  one  after  an- 


86 


BASHAN  AND  ITS  GIANT  CITIES. 


other,  great  stone  cities,  walled  and  unwalled,  with  stone 
gates,  and  so  crowded  together  that  it  becomes  almost  a 
matter  of  wonder  how  all  the  people  could  have  lived  in  so 
small  a  place ;  when  we  see  houses  built  of  such  huge  and 
massive  stones  that  no  force  which  can  be  brought  against 
them  in  that  country  could  ever  batter  them  down ;  when 
we  find  rooms  in  these  houses  so  large  and  lofty  that  many 
of  them  would  be  considered  fine  rooms  in  a  palace  in  Eu¬ 
rope  ;  and,  lastly,  when  we  find  some  of  these  towns  bearing 
the  very  names  which  cities  in  that  very  country  bore  before 
the  Israelites  came  out  of  Egypt,  I  think  we  cannot  help  feel¬ 
ing  the  strongest  conviction  that  we  have  before  us  the  cities 
of  the  Rephaim  of  which  we  read  in  the  Book  of  Deuter¬ 
onomy.” 

Kerioth  is  a  frontier  town.  It  is  on  the  confines  of  the 
uninhabited  plain,  where  the  fierce  Ishmaelite  roams  at 
will,  “his  hand  against  every  man.”  The  Druses  of  Ke¬ 
rioth  are  all  armed,  and  they  always  carry  their  arms. 
With  their  goats  on  the  hill-side,  with  their  yokes  of  oxen 
in  the  field,  with  their  asses  or  camels  on  the  road,  at  all 
hours,  in  all  places,  their  rifles  are  slung,  their  swords  by 
their  side,  and  their  pistols  in  their  belts.  Their  daring 
chief,  too,  goes  forth  on  his  expeditions  equipped  in  a  hel¬ 
met  of  steel  and  a  coat  of  linked  mail.  In  this  respect  also 
the  words  of  prophecy  are  fulfilled :  “  Moab  hath  been  at 
ease  from  his  youth.  .  .  .  Therefore,  behold,  the  days  come, 
saith  the  Lord,  that  I  will  send  unto  him  wanderers ,  that 
shall  cause  him  to  wander ,  and  shall  empty  his  vessels , 
and  break  his  bottles  ”  (Jer.  xlviii.  12).  What  could  be 
more  graphic  than  this  ?  The  wandering  Bedawin  are  now 
the  scourge  of  Moab ;  they  cause  the  few  inhabitants  that 
remain  in  it  to  settle  down  amid  the  fastnesses  of  the  rocks 
and  mountains,  and  often  to  wander  from  city  to  city,  in 
the  vain  hope  of  finding  rest  and  security. 


1 


THE  MOUNTAINS  AND  OAKS  OF  BASHAN. 


87 


THE  MOUNTAINS  AND  OAKS  OF  BASHAN. 

Leaving  Kerioth  I  turned  my  back  on  Moab’s  desolate 
plain,  and  began  to  climb  the  Mountains  of  Bashan.  Bleak 
and  rocky  at  the  base,  they  soon  assume  bolder  outlines 
and  exhibit  grander  features.  Ravines  cut  deeply  into 
their  sides;  bare  cliffs  shoot  out  from  tangled  jungles  of 
dwarf  ilex,  woven  together  with  brambles  and  creeping 
plants ;  pointed  cones  of  basalt,  strewn  here  and  there  with 
cinders  and  ashes,  tower  up  until  a  wreath  of  snow  is  wound 
round  their  heads ;  straggling  trees  of  the  great  old  oaks  of 
Bashan  dot  thinly  the  lower  declivities;  higher  up  little 
groves  of  them  appear,  and  higher  still,  around  the  loftiest 
peaks,  are  dense  forests.  Our  road  was  a  goat-track,  which 
wound  along  the  side  of  a  brawling  mountain  torrent,  now 
scaling  a  dizzy  crag  high  over  it,  and  now  diving  down 
again  till  the  spray  of  its  miniature  cascades  dashed  over 
our  horses.  For  nearly  two  hours  we  rode  up  that  wild 
and  picturesque  mountain  side.  We  passed  several  small 
villages  perched  like  fortresses  on  projecting  cliffs,  and  we 
saw  other  larger  ones  in  the  distance ;  they  are  all  deserted ; 
and  during  those  two  hours  we  did  not  meet,  nor  see,  nor 
hear  a  human  being.  We  saw  partridges  among  the  rocks, 
and  eagles  sweeping  in  graceful  circles  round  the  mountain 
tops,  and  two  or  three  foxes  and  one  hyena,  startled  from 
their  lairs  by  the  sound  of  our  horses’  feet ;  but  we  saw  no 
man,  no  herd,  no  flock.  The  time  of  judgment  predicted 
by  Isaiah  has  surely  come  to  this  part  of  the  land  of  Israel : 
“  Behold,  the  Lord  mnaketh  the  land  empty ,  and  maketli  it 
waste ,  and  turneth  it  upside  down,  and  scatter eth  abroad 
the  inhabitants  thereof.  The  land  shall  be  utterly  emp¬ 
tied,  and  utterly  spoiled  •  for  the  Lord  hath  spoken  this 
word”  (Isa.  xxiv.  1,  3). 

On  one  of  the  southern  peaks  of  the  mountain  range,  some 
two  thousand  feet  above  the  vale  of  Kerioth,  stands  the 
town  of  Hebran.  Its  shattered  walls  and  houses  looked 


88 


BAS1IAN  AND  ITS  GIANT  CITIES. 


exceedingly  picturesque,  as  we  wound  up  a  deep  ravine, 
shooting  out  far  overhead  from  among  the  tufted  foliage  of 
the  evergreen  oak.  Our  little  cavalcade  was  seen  approach¬ 
ing,  and  ere  we  reached  the  brow  of  the  hill  the  whole 
population  had  come  out  to  meet  and  welcome  us.  The 
sheikh,  a  noble-looking  young  Druse,  had  already  sent  a 
man  to  bring  a  kid  from  the  nearest  flock  to  make  a  feast 
for  us,  and  we  saw  him  bounding  away  through  an  opening 

in  the  forest.  He  returned  in  half  an  hour  with  the  kid  on 

/ 

his  shoulder.  We  assured  the  hospitable  sheikh  that  it 
was  impossible  for  us  to  remain.  Our  servants  were  al¬ 
ready  far  away  over  the  plain,  and  we  had  a  long  journey 
before  us.  He  would  listen  to  no  excuse.  The  feast  must 
be  prepared.  “My  lord  could  not  pass  by  his  servant’s 
house  without  honouring  him  by  eating  a  morsel  of  bread, 
and  partaking  of  the  kid  which  is  being  made  ready.  The 
sun  is  high ;  the  day  is  long ;  rest  for  a  time  under  my  roof ; 
eat  and  drink,  and  then  pass  on  in  peace.”  There  was  so 
much  of  the  true  spirit  of  patriarchal  hospitality  here,  so 
much  that  recalled  to  mind  scenes  in  the  life  of  Abraham 
(Gen.  xviii.  2),  and  Manoah  (Judges  xiii.  15),  and  other 
Scripture  celebrities,  that  we  found  it  hard  to  refuse.  Time 
pressed,  however,  and  we  were  reluctantly  compelled  to 
leave  before  the  kid  was  served. 

In  the  town  of  Hebran  are  many  objects  of  interest.  The 
ruins  of  a  beautiful  temple,  built  in  a.d.  155,  and  of  several 
other  public  edifices,  are  strewn  over  the  summit  and  rugged 
sides  of  the  hill.  But  the  simple,  massive,  primeval  houses 
were  to  us  objects  of  greater  attraction.  Many  of  them  are 
perfect,  and  in  them  the  modern  inhabitants  find  ample  and 
comfortable  accommodation.  The  stone  doors  appeared  even 
more  massive  than  those  of  Kerioth ;  and  we  found  the 
walls  of  the  houses  in  some  instances  more  than  seven  feet 
thick.  Hebran  must  have  been  one  of  the  most  ancient 
cities  of  Bashan.  The  view  from  it  is  magnificent.  The 
whole  country,  from  Kerioth  to  Bozrah,  and  from  Bozrah 


TESTIMONY  TO  THE  ACCURACY  OF  SCRIPTURE.  89 


to  Salcah,  was  spread  out  before  me  like  an  embossed  map ; 
while  away  beyond,  east,  south,  and  west,  the  panorama 
stretched  to  the  horizon.  Two  miles  below  me,  on  a  pro¬ 
jecting  ridge,  lay  the  deserted  town  of  Afineh,  thought  by 
some  to  be  the  ancient  Ashteroth-Karnaim ;  about  three 
miles  eastward  the  grey  towers  of  Sehweh,  a  large  town 
and  castle,  rose  up  from  the  midst  of  a  dense  oak  forest. 
About  the  same  distance  northward  is  Kufr,  another  town 
whose  walls  still  stand,  and  its  stone  gates ,  about  ten  feet 
high ,  remain  in  their  places.  Yet  the  town  is  deserted. 
Truly  one  might  repeat,  in  every  part  of  Bashan,  the  re¬ 
markable  words  of  Isaiah :  “  In  the  city  is  left  desolation  • 
and  the  gate  is  smitten  with  destruction  ”  (Isa.  xxiv.  12). 
We  observed  in  wandering  through  Hebran,  as  we  had 
done  previously  at  Kerioth  and  other  cities,  that  the  large 
buildings, — temples,  palaces,  churches,  and  mosques, — are 
now  universally  used  as  folds  for  sheep  and  cattle.  We 
saw  hundreds  of  animals  in  the  palaces  of  Kerioth,  and  the 
large  buildings  of  Hebran  were  so  filled  with  their  dung 
that  we  could  scarcely  walk  through  them.  This  also  was 
foreseen  and  foretold  by  the  Hebrew  prophets :  “  The 
defenced  city  shall  be  desolate,  and  left  like  a  wilderness ; 
there  shall  the  calf  feed ,  and  there  shall  he  lie  down.  .  .  . 
The  palaces  shall  be  forsaken,  ....  the  forts  and  towers 
shall  be  for  dens  for  ever,  a  joy  of  wild  asses,  a  pasture  of 
flocks  ”  (Isa.  xxvii.  10;  xxxii.  14).  And  of  Moab  Isaiah 
says:  “The  cities  of  Aroer  are  forsaken;  they  shall  be  for 
flocks,  which  shall  lie  down ,  and  none  shall  make  them 
afraid”  (Isa.  xvii.  2). 

From  Hebran  we  rode  along  the  mountain  side  in  a 
north-westerly  direction,  crossing  a  Roman  road  which  for¬ 
merly  connected  the  capital,  Bozrah,  with  Kufr,  Kanterah, 
and  other  large  towns  among  the  mountains.  It  is  now 
“  desolate ,”  like  all  the  highways  of  Bashan,  and  in  places 
completely  covered  over  with  the  branches  of  oak  trees  and 
straggling  brambles.  In  an  hour  we  passed  a  group  of 


90 


B ASIIAN  AND  ITS  GIANT  CITIES. 


large  villages,  occupied  by  a  few  families  of  Druses.  Here, 
too,  we  found  that  the  largest  houses  are  now  used  as  stables 
for  camels  and  folds  for  sheep.  Continuing  to  descend  the 
terraced  but  desolate  hill-sides,  crossing  several  streamlets 
flowing  through  picturesque  glens,  and  leaving  a  number  of 
deserted  villages  to  the  right  and  left,  we  at  length  reached 
Suweideh,  which  we  had  previously  visited  on  our  way  to 
Bozrah. 

I  had  now  crossed  over  the  southern  section  of  the  ridge, 
and  had  completed  my  short  tour  among  the  mountains  of 
Baslian.  It  was  not  without  feelings  of  regret  that,  after  a 
visit  so  brief,  I  was  about  to  turn  away  from  this  interest¬ 
ing  region,  most  probably  for  ever.  I  felt  glad,  however, 
that  I  had  been  privileged  to  visit,  even  for  so  brief  a  pe¬ 
riod,  a  country  renowned  in  early  history,  and  sacred  as  one 
of  the  first  provinces  bestowed  by  God  on  his  ancient  peo¬ 
ple.  The  freshness  and  picturesque  beauty  of  the  scenery, 
the  extent  and  grandeur  of  the  ruins,  the  hearty  and  re¬ 
peated  welcomes  of  the  people,  the  truly  patriarchal  hospi 
tality  with  which  I  was  everywhere  entertained,  but,  above 
all,  the  convincing,  overwhelming  testimony  afforded  at 
every  step  to  the  minute  accuracy  of  Scripture  history,  and 
the  literal  fulfilment  of  prophecy,  filled  my  mind  with  such 
feelings  of  joy  and  of  thankfulness  as  I  had  never  before 
experienced.  I  had  often  read  of  Bashan, — how  the  Lord 
had  delivered  into  the  hands  of  the  tribe  of  Manasseh,  Og, 
its  giant  king,  and  all  his  people.  I  had  observed  the  state¬ 
ment  that  a  single  province  of  his  kingdom,  Argob,  con¬ 
tained  threescore  great  cities ,  fenced  with  high  walls,  gates, 
and  bars,  besides  unwallecl  towns  a  great  many.  I  had 
examined  my  map,  and  had  found  that  the  whole  of  Ba¬ 
shan  is  not  larger  than  an  ordinary  English  county.  I  con¬ 
fess  I  was  astonished ;  and  though  my  faith  in  the  Divine 
Record  was  not  shaken,  yet  I  felt  that  some  strange  statis¬ 
tical  mystery  hung  over  the  passage,  which  required  to  be 
cleared  up.  That  one  city,  nurtured  by  the  commerce  of  a 


TESTIMONY  TO  THE  ACCURACY  OF  SCRIPTURE.  91 


mighty  empire,  might  grow  till  her  people  could  be  num¬ 
bered  by  millions,  I  could  well  believe ;  that  two  or  even 
three  great  commercial  cities  might  spring  up  in  favoured 
localities,  almost  side  by  side,  I  could  believe  too.  But 
that  sixty  walled  cities,  besides  unwalled  towns  a  great 
many ,  should  exist  in  a  small  province,  at  such  a  remote 
age,  far  from  the  sea,  with  no  rivers  and  little  commerce,  ap¬ 
peared  to  be  inexplicable.  Inexplicable,  mysterious  though 
it  appeared,  it  was  true.  On  the  spot,  with  my  own  eyes, 
I  had  now  verified  it.  A  list  of  more  than  one  hundred 
ruined  cities  and  villages,  situated  in  these  mountains 
alone,  I  had  in  my  hands ;  and  on  the  spot  I  had  tested  it, 
and  found  it  accurate,  though  not  complete.  More  than 
thirty  of  these  I  had  myself  visited  or  passed  close  by. 
Many  others  I  had  seen  in  the  distance.  The  extent  of 
some  of  them  I  measured,  and  have  already  stated.  Of 
their  high  antiquity  I  could  not,  after  inspecting  them,  en¬ 
tertain  a  doubt ;  and  I  have  explained  why.  Here,  then, 
we  have  a  venerable  Record,  more  than  three  thousand 
years  old,  containing  incidental  descriptions,  statements, 
and  statistics,  which  few  men  would  be  inclined  to  receive 
on  trust,  which  not  a  few  are  now  attempting  to  throw 
aside  as  “  glaring  absurdities,”  and  “  gross  exaggerations,” 
and  yet  which  close  and  thorough  examination  proves  to 
be  accurate  in  the  most  minute  details.  Here,  again,  are 
prophecies  of  ruin  and  utter  desolation ,  pronounced  and 
recorded  when  this  country  was  in  the  height  of  its  pros¬ 
perity, — when  its  vast  plains  waved  with  corn,  when  its 
hill-sides  were  clothed  with  vineyards,  when  its  cities  and 
villages  resounded  with  the  busy  hum  of  a  teeming  popu¬ 
lation  ;  and  now,  after  my  survey  of  Hashan,  if  I  were  asked 
to  describe  the  present  state  of  plains,  mountains,  towns, 
and  villages,  I  could  not  possibly  select  language  more  ap¬ 
propriate,  more  accurate,  or  more  graphic,  than  the  lan¬ 
guage  of  these  very  prophecies.  My  unalterable  conviction 
is,  that  the  eye  of  the  Omniscient  God  alone  could  have 


92 


BASH  AN  AND  ITS  GIANT  CITIES. 


foreseen  a  doom  so  terrible  as  that  which  has  fallen  on 
Moab  and  Bashan. 

ARGOB. 

From  Suweideh  I  rode  north-west  across  the  noble  plain 
of  Bashan,  passing  in  succession  the  villages  of  Welgha, 
Rimeh,  Mezraali,  and  Sijn,  and  seeing  many  others  away  on 
the  right  and  left.  Most  of  them  contain  a  few  families  of 
Druses ;  but  not  one-tenth  of  the  habitable  houses  in  them 
are  inhabited.  These  houses  are  in  every  respect  similar 
to  those  in  the  mountains.  I  was  now  approaching  the  re¬ 
markable  province  of  Lejah,  the  ancient  Argob ,  properly 
so  called.  A  four  hours’  ride  brought  me  to  Nejran,  whose 
massive  black  walls  and  heavy  square  towers  rise  up  lonely 
and  desolate  from  the  midst  of  a  wilderness  of  rocks.  The 
town  has  still  a  comparatively  large  population;  that  is, 
there  are  probably  a  hundred  families  settled  in  the  old 
houses,  which  cover  a  space  more  than  two  miles  in  cir¬ 
cumference.  It  contains  a  number  of  public  buildings,  the 
largest  of  which  is  a  church,  dedicated,  as  a  Greek  inscrip¬ 
tion  informs  us,  in  the  year  a.d.  564. 

Nejran  stands  just  within  the  southern  border  of  the 
Lejah.  Around  the  city,  and  far  as  I  could  see  westward 
and  northward,  was  one  vast  wilderness  of  rocks; — here 
piled  up  in  shapeless,  jagged  masses;  there  spread  out  in 
flat,  rugged  fields,  intersected  by  yawning  fissures  and 
chasms.  The  Bible  name  of  the  province,  Argob*  “the 
Stony,”  is  strikingly  descriptive  of  its  physical  features.  I 
made  a  vigorous  effort  to  penetrate  to  the  interior  of  the 
Lejah,  in  order  to  visit  those  strange  old  cities  which  I  saw 
in  the  distance  from  the  towers  of  Nejran,  and  of  which  I 
had  heard  so  much ;  but  no  one  would  undertake  to  guide  me, 

*  Argob  appears  to  have  been  the  home  of  the  warlike  tribe  of  Geshurites.  Absalom’s 
mother  was  Maacah,  daughter  of  Talmai,  king  of  Geshur  (2  Sam.  iii.  3) ;  and  when  he 
slew  his  brother  Amnon  he  fled,  “  and  went  to  Geshur,  and  was  there  three  years” 
(xiii.  3S).  Probably  much  of  Absalom’s  wild  and  wayward  spirit  may  be  attributed  to 
maternal  training,  and  to  the  promptings  of  his  relatives  the  Geshurites. 


THE  LEJAH. 


93 


and  the  Druses  absolutely  refused  to  be  responsible  for  my 
safety  should  I  make  the  attempt.  The  Lejah,  in  fact,  is 
the  sanctuary,  the  great  natural  stronghold  of  the  people. 
When  fleeing  from  the  Bedawin,  and  when  in  rebellion 
against  the  government,  they  find  themselves  perfectly  safe 
in  its  rocky  recesses.  They  are  consequently  jealous  of  all 
strangers,  and  they  will  not  under  any  ordinary  circumstan¬ 
ces,  guide  travellers  through  its  intricate  and  secret  passes. 
Argob,  Trachonitis,  or  Lejah, — for  by  each  name  has  it 
been  successively  called, — has  been  an  asylum  for  all  male¬ 
factors  and  refugees  ever  since  the  time  when  Absalom  fled 
to  it  after  the  murder  of  his  brother. 

Being  prevented  from  passing  through  the  centre  of  the 
Lejah,  we  turned  westward  to  Edrei,  hoping  to  be  more 
fortunate  in  obtaining  guides  there.  The  path  along  which 
we  were  led  was  intricate,  difficult,  and  in  places  even  dan¬ 
gerous.  We  had  often  to  scramble  over  smooth  ledges  of 
basalt,  where  our  horses  could  scarcely  keep  their  feet ;  and 
these  were  separated  by  deep  fissures  and  chasms,  here  and 
there  half  filled  with  muddy  water.  A  stranger  would 
have  sought  in  vain  for  the  road,  if  road  it  can  be  called. 
In  half  an  hour  we  reached  the  plain ;  and  then  continued  to 
ride  along  the  side  of  the  Lejah,  whose  boundary  resembles 
the  rugged  line  of  broken  cliffs  which  gird  a  great  part  of 
the  eastern  coast  of  England.  The  Hebrew  name  given  to 
it  in  the  Bible  is  most  appropriate,  and  shows  how  observ¬ 
ant  the  sacred  writers  were.  The  word  is  Chebel,  signify¬ 
ing  literally  “  a  rope,”  but  which  describes  with  singular 
accuracy  the  remarkably  defined  boundary  line  which  en¬ 
circles  the  whole  province  like  a  rocky  shore. 

We  passed  in  succession  the  deserted  towns  of  Kiratah, 
Taarah,  and  Duweireh,  all  built  within  the  Lejah;  and  we 
saw  many  others  on  the  plain  to  the  left,  and  among  the 
rocks  on  the  right.  We  entered  the  town  of  Busr  el-Har- 
iry,  but  were  received  with  such  scowling  looks  and  savage 
threats  and  curses  by  its  Moslem  inhabitants,  that  we  were 


94 


B  ASTI  AX  AND  ITS  GIANT  CITIES 


glad  to  effect  our  escape.  We  now  felt  that  on  leaving  the 
Druse  territory  we  had  left  hospitality  and  welcome  behind, 
and  that  henceforth  outbursts  of  Moslem  fanaticism  awaited 
us  everywhere. 

EDEEI. 

Soon  after  leaving  Busr,  the  towers  of  Edrei  came  in 
sight,  extending  along  the  summit  of  a  projecting  ledge  of 
rocks  in  front,  and  running  some  distance  into  the  interior 
of  the  Lejah  on  the  right.  Crossing  a  deep  ravine,  and  as¬ 
cending  the  rugged  ridge  of  rocks  by  a  winding  path  like 
a  goat-track,  we  came  suddenly  on  the  ruins  of  this  ancient 
city.  The  situation  is  most  remarkable  : — without  a  single 
spring  of  living  water ;  without  river  or  stream;  without 
access,  except  over  rocks  and  through  defiles  all  but  im¬ 
passable ;  without  tree  or  garden.  In  selecting  the  site, 
everything  seems  to  have  been  sacrificed  to  security  and 
strength.  Shortly  after  my  arrival  I  went  up  to  the  ter¬ 
raced  roof  of  a  house,  to  obtain  a  general  view  of  the  ruins. 
Their  aspect  was  far  from  inviting ;  it  was  wild  and  savage 
in  the  extreme.  The  huge  masses  of  shattered  masonry 
could  scarcely  be  distinguished  from  the  rocks  that  encir¬ 
cle  them ;  and  all,  ruins  and  rocks  alike,  are  black,  as  if 
scathed  by  lightning.  I  saw  several  square  towers,  and 
remains  of  temples,  churches,  and  mosques.  The  private 
houses  are  low,  massive,  gloomy,  and  manifestly  of  the 
highest  antiquity.  The  inhabitants  are  chiefly  Moslems; 
but  as  there  is  a  little  Christian  community,  we  selected 
the  house  of  their  sheikh  a&  our  temporary  residence. 

Under  the  guidance  of  our  host,  we  went  out  in  the 
afternoon  to  inspect  the  principal  buildings  of  the  city.  A 
crowd  of  fanatical  Moslems  gathered  round,  and  followed 
us  wherever  we  went,  trying  every  means  to  annoy  and  in¬ 
sult  us.  We  paid  no  attention  to  them,  and  hoped  thus 
to  escape  worse  treatment.  Unfortunately  our  hopes  were 
vain.  I  was  suddenly  struck  down  by  a  blow  of  a  club 


EDREI. 


95 


while  copying  an  inscription.  The  crowd  then  rushed  upon 
us  in  a  body  with  stones,  clubs,  swords,  and  knives.  I  was 
separated  from  my  companions,  pursued  by  some  fifty  or 
sixty  savages,  all  thirsting  for  my  blood.  After  some  hard 
struggles,  which  I  cannot  look  back  to  even  yet  without 
a  shudder,  I  succeeded  in  reaching  our  temporary  home. 
Here  I  found  my  companions,  like  myself,  severely  wound¬ 
ed,  and  almost  faint  from  loss  of  blood.  Our  Druse  guard 
defended  the  house  till  midnight,  and  then,  thanks  to  a 
merciful  Providence,  we  made  our  escape  from  Edrei. 

Edrei  was  the  capital  city  of  the  giant  Og.  On  the  plain 
beside  it  he  marshalled  his  forces  to  oppose  the  advancing 
host  of  the  Israelites.  He  fell,  his  army  was  totally  routed, 
and  Edrei  was  taken  by  the  conquerors  (Num.  xxi.  33 ; 
Deut.  iii.  1-4).  Probably  it  did  not  remain  long  in  the 
hands  of  the  Israelites,  for  we  hear  no  more  of  it  in  the 
Bible.  The  monuments  now  found  in  it  show  that  it  was 
one  of  the  most  important  cities  of  Bashan  in  the  time  of 
the  Homans.  After  the  Saracenic  conquest,  it  gradually 
dwindled  down  from  a  metropolitan  city  to  a  poor  village ; 
and  now,  though  the  ruins  are  some  three  miles  in  circuit, 
it  does  not  contain  more  than  five  hundred  inhabitants. 
How  applicable  are  the  words  of  Ezekiel  both  to  the  phys¬ 
ical  and  to  the  social  state  of  Edrei  !  “  Thus  saith  the 
Lord,  .  .  .  Behold,  I,  even  I,  will  bring  a  sword  upon  you, 
and  I  will  destroy  your  high  places . In  all  your  dwell¬ 

ing-places  the  cities  shall  be  laid,  waste ,  and  the  high  places 
shall  be  desolate”  (Ezek.  vi.  3,  6).  “ I  will  bring  the  worst 

of  the  heathen ,  and  they  shall  possess  their  houses . Say 

unto  the  people  of  the  land,  Thus  saith  the  Lord  God,  .... 
They  shall  eat  their  bread  with  carefulness,  and  drink  their 
water  with  astonishment,  ....  because  of  the  violence  of  all 
them  that  dwell  therein .  Every  one  that  passeth  thereby 
shall  be  astonished”  (Ezek.  vii.  24;  xii.  19,  &c.) 

In  darkness  and  silence  we  rode  out  of  Edrei.  For  more  ~ 

than  an  hour  we  were  led  through  rugged  and  intricate 
5 


96 


BA  SHAN  AND  ITS  GIANT  CITIES. 


paths  among  the  rocks,  scarcely  venturing  to  hope  that  we 
should  ever  reach  the  plain  in  safety.  We  did  reach  it, 
however,  and  with  grateful  hearts  we  rode  on,  guided  by 
the  stars.  Before  long  we  were  again  entangled  in  the 
rocky  mazes  of  this  wild  region,  and  resolved,  after  several 
vain  attempts  to  get  out,  to  wait  for  daylight.  The  night 
wind  was  cold,  bitterly  cold;  my  wounds  were  stiff  and 
painful ;  and  there  was  no  shelter  from  the  blast  save  that 
of  the  shattered  rocks.  The  spot,  too,  was  neither  safe  nor 
pleasant  for  a  bivouac.  The  mournful  howl  of  the  jackal, 
the  sharp  ringing  bark  of  the  wolf,  and  the  savage  growl  of 
the  hyena,  were  heard  all  round  us.  Gradually  they  came 
nearer  and  closer.  Our  poor  horses  quivered  in  every  limb. 
We  were  forced  to  keep  marching  round  them;  for  we  saw 
by  the  bright  star-light  and  the  flashing  eyes,  that  the 
rocks  on  every  side  were  tenanted  with  enemies  almost  as 
dangerous  and  bloodthirsty  as  the  men  of  Edrei.  There  I 
knew  for  the  first  time  what  it  was  to  spend  a  night  with 
the  wild  beasts ;  and  there  I  had,  too,  a  practical  and  pain¬ 
ful  illustration  of  Isaiah’s  remarkable  prediction,  “  The  wild 
beasts  of  the  desert  shall  also  meet  with  the  wild  beasts  of  the 
island ,  and  the  satyr  shall  cry  to  his  fellow ,”  &c.  (Isa. 
xxxiv.  14.) 

Day-light  came  at  last — not  with  the  slow,  stealing  step 
of  the  West,  but  with  the  swiftness  and  beauty  of  Eastern 
climes.  Mounting  our  jaded  horses,  we  rode  on  between 
huge  black  stones  and  crags  of  naked  rock.  Climbing  to 
the  top  of  a  little  hill,  we  got  a  wide  view  over  the  Lejah. 
I  could  only  compare  it  to  the  ruins  of  a  Cyclopean  city 
prostrate  and  desolate.  There  was  not  one  pleasing  fea¬ 
ture.  The  very  trees  that  grow  amid  the  rocks  have  a 
blasted  look.  Yet,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  this  forbidding 
region  is  thickly  studded  with  ancient  towns  and  villages, 
long  ago  deserted.  Passing  through  the  Lejah  to  the 
town  of  Khubab,  we  rode  on  northward  along  its  border, 
leaving  the  towns  of  Hazkin,  Eib,  Musmieli,  and  others,  on 


DESOLATION. 


97 


our  right.  They  are  all  deserted,  and  tnere  is  not  a  single 
inhabited  spot  east  of  Khubab.  The  rich  and  beautiful 
plain  on  the  north  of  the  Lejah  is  now  desolate  as  the 
Lejah  itself,  and  in  a  ride  of  ten  miles  we  did  not  see  a 
human  being.  We  pursued  our  route  to  Deir  Ali,  and 
thence  over  the  Pharpar,  at  Kesweh,  to  Damascus. 

Thus  ended  my  tour  through  eastern  Bashan,  and  my 
explorations  of  its  giant  cities. 


THE  JORDAN  AND  THE  DEAD  SEA 


'  ®Jye  Jorbatt  anb  tljt  Cl  fab  Sta. 

“O  my  God,  ....  I  will  remember  thee  from  the  land  of  Jordan,  and  of  the  Hermonites, 

from  the  hill  Mizar.” — Ps.  xlii.  6. 


HERE  is  no  river  in  the  world  like  the  Jordan; — - 
none  so  wonderful  in  its  historic  memories,  none 
so  hallowed  in  its  sacred  associations,  and  none  so 
remarkable  in  its  physical  geography.  It  is  the 
river  of  the  Holy  Land.  It  has  been  more  or  less  inti¬ 
mately  connected  with  all  the  great  events  of  Scripture  his¬ 
tory  from  the  patriarchs  to  the  apostles.  Its  banks  have 
been  the  scene  of  the  most  stupendous  miracles  of  judg¬ 
ment,  power,  and  love,  ever  the  earth  witnessed.  When 
the  fire  of  heaven  had  burnt  up  Sodom’s  guilty  cities  and 
polluted  plain,  the  waters  of  the  Jordan  rolled  over  them 
and  buried  them  for  ever  from  the  face  of  man.  Thrice 
was  the  swollen  torrent  of  that  river  stayed,  and  its  chan¬ 
nel  divided  to  let  God’s  people  and  prophets  pass  over  “  dry 
shod.”  Once,  at  the  bidding  of  the  man  of  God,  the  iron 
axe  rose  buoyant  from  its  channel,  and  floated  on  its  sur¬ 
face.  Once  its  waters  gave  forth  healing  virtue,  as  if  to 
prove  to  the  proud  Syrian  chief  the  fallacy  of  his  sneer¬ 
ing  exclamation, — “Are  not  Abana  and  Pharpar  rivers  of 
D  amascus  better  than  all  the  waters  of  Israel  ?”  Greater 
still  were  those  miracles  of  our  Lord  which  the  evangelists 
have  grouped  thickly  on  and  around  the  central  lake  of  the 
Jordan.  There  did  the  storm-tossed  billows  hear  and  obey 
the  voice  of  their  Creator;  there  did  the  incarnate  God 
walk  upon  the  face  of  the- deep ;  there,  obedient  to  His  will, 


102 


THE  JORDAN  AND  THE  DEAD  SEA. 


the  fishes  filled  the  disciples’  nets;  along  those  shores  the 
lame  walked,  the  deaf  heard,  the  blind  saw,  the  sick  were 
healed,  lepers  were  cleansed,  the  dead  were  raised  to  life 
again.  But  the  most  glorious  event  the  Jordan  ever  wit¬ 
nessed  was  Christ’s  baptism ;  for  when  he  was  baptized, 
“  the  heavens  were  opened  unto  him,  and  he  saw  the  Spirit 
of  God  descending  like  a  dove,  and  lighting  upon  him and 
when  the  Divine  Son  was  perfectly  equipped  for  his  great 
work  of  redeeming  love — when  just  about  to  set  out  on  his 
glorious  mission — the  voice  of  the  Divine  Father  pierces 
the  vault  of  heaven,  and  proclaims  to  the  astonished  and 
joyful  disciples  on  Jordan’s  banks  the  divine  approval  of 
both  work  and  worker, — ■“  This  is  my  beloved  Son,  in  whom 
I  am  well  jfieased.”  Surely,  then,  we  may  say  that  every 
spot  along  this  stream  is  “  holy  ground,”  and  that  the  name 
Joed  an  is  not  only  emblazoned  on  the  page  of  history,  but 
enshrined  in  the  Christian’s  heart. 

It  would  almost  seem  as  if  nature  or  nature’s  God  had 
from  the  first  prepared  this  river  to  be  the  scene  of  wond¬ 
rous  events,  by  giving  to  its  physical  geography  some 
wondrous  characteristics.  Its  principal  fountain,  bursting 
from  the  base  of  Hermon,  is,  like  the  mouths  of  other  rivers, 
on  the  level  of  the  ocean*  It  descends  rapidly  through  its 
whole  course,  and  at  length  empties  into  the  Dead  Sea, 
whose  surface  has  a  depression  of  no  less  than  1312  feet. 
The  whole  valley  of  the  Jordan  is  thus  a  huge  rent  or  fis¬ 
sure  in  the  earth’s  crust.  Though  it  is  not  much  over  a 
hundred  miles  in  length,  at  its  southern  end,  along  the 
shores  of  that  mysterious  lake,  we  have  the  climate  and 
products  of  the  tropics,  while  at  its  northern  end  on  the 
brow  of  Hermon,  we  have  a  region  of  perpetual  snow. 

*  Some  geographers  give  the  fountain  of  Dan  an  elevation  of  600,  others  600,  others  300 
feet;  but  these  seem  to  be  erroneous,  as  I  have  shown  in  the  article  Jordan,  in  “Kitto’s 
Cyclopaedia,”  last  edition. 


THE  FOUNTAINS. 


103 


THE  FOUNTAINS. 

It  was  on  a  bright  and  cloudless  summer  day  I  first 
visited  the  fountains  of  the  Jordan.  On  the  preceding 
night  I  slept  on  a  snow  wreath,  on  the  very  peak  of  Her- 
mon.  Beside  me,  in  a  hallowed  rock,  the  fire  of  Baal  had 
often  burnt  in  bygone  ages,  and  around  me  were  the  great 
stones  of  Baal’s  altar  and  the  shattered  ruins  of  a  later  tem¬ 
ple.  There  I  was  enabled  to  prove  for  the  first  time  how 
.accurate  was  the  name  given  to  this  mount  by  the  sacred 
writers ,  Baal- Her mon  (Judg.  iii.  3;  1  Chron.  v.  23).  A  no¬ 
ble  spot  that  was  for  the  worship  of  the  great  fire-god.  His 
priests  could  see  the  sun  rising  from  the  eastern  desert  long 
before  his  beams  lighted  up  the  plains  below,  and  they 
could  see  him  sinking  slowly  in  the  western  sea  long  after 
he  had  set  to  the  shores  of  Phoenicia ;  and  then  at  night,  on 
that  commanding  peak,  they  could  kindle  a  flame  whose 
light  would  flash  far  and  wide  over  Syria  and  Palestine. 
Wishing  to  realize  something  of  the  grandeur  of  those  old 
Baal-fires,  we  gathered  a  great  quantity  of  the  dry  prickly 
shrubs  that  cover  the  mountain  sides,  piled  them  up  on 
the  rock  where  the  fire  used  to  burn,  and  applied  a  match. 
The  air  was  perfectly  still,  and  the  flame  seemed  to  shoot 
up  into  the  very  heavens,  while  Herman’s  icy  crown  gleamed 
and  glittered  in  the  ruddy  light. 

The  descent  from  the  top  of  Hermon  to  the  fountains  of 
the  Jordan  was  as  if  one  had  travelled  in  a  single  day  from 
Greenland  to  the  equator.  The  heat  was  most  oppressive 
when,  emerging  from  a  wild  mountain  glen,  we  entered  the 
marshy  plain  of  Merom.  Away  in  front  our  guide  pointed 
out  a  little  isolated  tell,  apparently  in  the  centre  of  the 
great  plain, — “That,”  said  he,  “is  Tell  el-kady.”  We  were 
soon  beside  it,  and  tying  up  my  horse  beneath  the  shade  of 
a  noble  oak — a  straggler  from  the  forests  of  Bashan — I  set 
out  to  explore. 


THE  JORDAN  AND  THE  DEAD  SEA. 


10* 


DA1ST. 

The  tell  is  cup-shaped,  ]ike  an  extinct  crater,  which  it 
perhaps  may  he,  for  the  stones  of  the  surrounding  plain  are 
volcanic.  From  its  western  base  bursts  forth  one  of  the 
largest  fountains  in  Syria,  its  waters  forming  a  miniature 
lake,  and  then  rushing  off  across  the  plain  southward  a 
deep  rapid  river.  Within  the  tell,  beneath  the  branches  of 
the  great  oak,  is  a  smaller  fountain,  whose  stream  breaks 
through  the  circling  rim,  and  foaming  down  the  side,  joins 
its  sister.  This  is  the  principal  source  of  the  Jordan. 

But  the  tell,  has  it  no  name  in  history,  no  story  or  legend 
to  attract  the  notice  of  the  passing  pilgrim  or  the  Bible 
student?  It  had  ©nee  a  historic  name,  which  is  not  yet 
quite  gone ;  and  its  story  is  a  long  and  a  sad  one.  I  wan¬ 
dered  over  it  wherever  it  was  possible  to  go.  I  found  a 
few  heaps  of  rubbish  and  old  building  stones,  a  few  re¬ 
mains  of  massive  foundations,  a  few  fragments  of  columns 
almost  buried  in  the  soil,  vast  thickets  of  thorns,  briars,  and 
gigantic  thistles,  some  impenetrable  jungles  of  cane  and 
thorn  bushes,  but  nothing  else ;  and  yet  this  is  the  site  of 
the  great  border  city  of  Dan.  Upon  this  hill  Jeroboam 
built  a  temple,  and  set  up  in  its  shrine  one  of  his  golden 
calves,  thus  polluting  that  “Holy  Land”  which  the  Lord 
gave  in  covenant  promise  to  the  seed  of  Abraham.  There¬ 
fore  has  the  curse  come  upon  Dan.  Though  one  of  the 
noblest  sites  in  Palestine,  though  encompassed  by  a  plain 
of  unrivalled  fertility,  it  and  its  plain  are  now  alike  desolate. 
The  prophetic  curse  is  fulfilled  to  the  letter, — uIn  all  your 
dwelling  places  the  cities  shall  be  laid  waste ,  and  the  high 
places  shall  be  desolate  ;  that  your  altars  may  be  laid  toaste 
and  made  desolate ,  and  your  idols  may  be  broken  and  cease , 
and  your  works  may  be  abolished  ”  (Ezek.  vi.  6). 

It  is  interesting  to  note  how  the  old  name  .clings  to  the 
spot  still,  though  in  an  Arabic  translation.  Tell  el-kady  sig¬ 
nifies  “  the  hill  of  the  judge f  and  the  Hebrew  word  Tan 
means  “judge”  (Gen.  xlix.  1G). 


C2ESAREA  PHILIPPI. 


105 


CiESAREA  PHILIPPI. 

Half  an  hour  across  the  plain,  through  pleasant  forest 
glades,  bordered  with  myrtle,  acacia,  and  oleander,  and  an¬ 
other  half  hour  up  a  rugged  mountain  side,  beneath  the 
shade  of  Bashan’s  stately  oaks,  brought  me  to  the  site  of 
the  old  Greek  city  of  Panium,  which  Herod  the  Great  re¬ 
built,  and  renamed  Csesa-rea-Philippi.  This  is  one  of  the 
very  few  really  beautiful  spots  in  Palestine.  Behind  rises 
Hermon,  steep,  rugged,  and  grand,  one  of  its  lower  peaks 
crowned  by  the  frowning  battlements  of  a  Phoenician  cas¬ 
tle.  In  front  stretches  out  the  broad  plain  of  Merom,  like 
a  vast  meadow,  and  away  beyond  it  is  the  mountain  range 
of  Lebanon.  The  city  stood  upon  a  natural  terrace,  which 
is  interspersed  with  groves  of  oaks  and  olives  and  shrub¬ 
beries  of  hawthorn,  myrtle,  and  acacia,  and  is  all  alive  with 
streams  of  water  and  miniature  cascades,  fretting  here  and 
there  against  prostrate  column  and  ruined  wall.  It  is,  in 
fact,  as  Dean  Stanley  has  happily  named  it,  a  Syrian  Tivoli. 

Behind  the  ruins  rises  a  cliff  of  ruddy  limestone.  At  its 
base  is  a  dark  cave,  now  nearly  filled  with  the  ruins  of  a 
temple.  From  the  cave,  from  the  ruins,  from  every  chink 
and  cranny  in  the  soil  and  rocks  around,  waters  gush  forth, 
which  soon  collect  into  a  torrent,  dash  in  sheets  of  foam 
down  a  rocky  bed,  and  at  length  plunge  over  a  precipice 
into  a  deep  dark  ravine.  This  is  the  other  great  fountain 
of  the  Jordan. 

It  is  “holy  ground,”  for  Jesus  was  here.  Beside  the 
fountain  he  uttered  those  memorable  words,  “  Thou  art 
Peter,  and  upon  this  rock  I  will  build  my  church  ”  (Matt, 
xvi.  13-20;  xvii.  1-13).  May  not  the  sight  of  the  great 
cliff  overhead  have  suggested  the  peculiar  form  of  the  ex¬ 
pression  ?  And  we  read  that  six  days  afterwards  Christ 
took  three  of  his  disciples,  and  led  them  “  up  into  an  high 
mountain,  and  was  transfigured  before  them.”  Standing 
there  amid  the  ruins  of  Csesarea,  one  does  not  need  to 


106 


THE  JORDAN  AND  THE  DEAD  SEA 


ask  where  the  Mount  of  Transfiguration  is.  Hermon,  the 
grandest  and  the  most  beautiful  of  all  the  mountains  of 
Palestine,  has  established  its  claim  to  the  title  of  “holy 
mount.” 

THE  WATERS  OF  MEEOM. 

The  streams  from  Dan  and  Caesarea  unite  with  several 
others  and  flow  into  a  little  lake,  which  is  called  in  Scrip¬ 
ture  the  “  waters  of  Merom.”  On  the  north  and  east  it  is 
shut  in  by  impenetrable  marshes,  but  on  the  south-west  is 
a  considerable  expanse  of  higher  plain  and  rolling  downs, 
above  which,  on  the  mountain  side,  are  the  ruins  of  the 
great  city  of  Hazor.  Here  J abin,  the  head  of  the  northern 
Canaanitish  tribes,  assembled  all  his  forces  and  numerous 
allies,  and  drew  up  his  war  chariots  and  cavalry,  for  a  final 
attempt  to  drive  back  the  Israelites.  But  God  fought  for 
Israel.  The  attack  was  sudden,  and  the  route  complete. 
When  I  stood  on  the  mountain-brow,  near  the  ruins  of  that 
royal  city,  and  looked  down  on  the  battle-field  hemmed  in 
by  the  river,  the  lake,  the  marshes,  and  the  mountains,  I 
saw  how  the  panic-stricken  Canaanites,  with  their  horses 
and  chariots,  would  be  hurled  together  in  confused  and 
helpless  masses  on  the  marshy  plain  and  in  the  narrow  ra¬ 
vines,  and  would  become  an  easy  prey  to  the  victorious  Is¬ 
raelites,  who  “  smote  them  until  they  left  them  none  re¬ 
maining,  ....  and  houghed  their  horses,  and  burned  their 
chariots  with  fires”  (Josh.  xi).  This  victory  virtually  com¬ 
pleted  the  conquest  of  Palestine. 

A  few  miles  below  the  lake  the  Jordan  is  spanned  by  the 
“Bridge  of  Jacob’s  Daughters,” — -a  name  for  which  it  is 
not  easy  to  account.  So  far  the  Jordan  glides  lazily  along 
through  a  grassy  vale,  between  reedy  banks,  on  which  the 
buffalo  and  the  wild  swine  find  a  fitting  home ;  but  at  the 
bridge  the  vale  becomes  a  wild  ravine,  and  the  sluggish 
stream  a  foaming  torrent.  Along  its  banks  I  rode,  guided 
by  an  Arab  chief,  now  following  the  windings  of  the  chan- 


SEA  OF  GALILEE. 


107 


nel,  now  crossing  a  high  projecting  bluff.  The  mad  river 
never  rests  until,  breaking  from  its  rocky  barriers,  it  enters 
the  rich  plain  of  Bethsaida,— That  Bethsaida  near  which 
Jesus  fed  the  five  thousand  with  five  loaves  (Luke  ix.  10). 
After  a  passing  visit  to  the  desolate  site,  I  continued  my 
journey,  and  found  my  tent  pitched  at  the  mouth  of  the 
J  ordan. 

THE  SEA  OF  GALILEE. 

It  was  a  lovely  sjiot.  I  sat  there  in  my  tent-door,  and 
looked  long  and  eagerly  over  one  of  the  most  interesting 
panoramas  in  the  world.  There  was  nothing  to  disturb 
me, — no  din  of  human  life,  no  jarring  sound  of  human  toil 
or  struggle.  The  silence  was  profound.  Even  nature 
seemed  to  have  fallen  asleep.  The  river  glided  noiselessly 
past,  and  the  sea  was  spread  out  before  me  like  a  polished 
mirror,  reflecting  from  its  glassy  bosom  the  gorgeous  tints 
of  the  evening  sky ;  and  both  sea  and  river  were  fringed 
with  a  bright  border  of  oleander  flowers.  East  of  the  lake, 
the  side  of  Bashan’s  lofty  plateau  rose  as  a  mountain  chain ; 
and  at  its  northern  end  my  eye  rested  on  the  very  scene  of 
that  miracle  of  mercy,  where  thousands  were  fed ;  and  at 
its  southern  end,  on  that  of  the  miracle  of  judgment,  where 
“  the  whole  herd  of  swine  ran  violently  down  a  steep  place, 
and  perished  in  the  waters.”  Away  on  the  west  the  shat¬ 
tered  ramparts  of  Tiberias  seemed  to  rise  out  of  the  bosom 
of  the  lake,  and  behind  them  a  dark  mountain,  in  whose 
caverned  cliffs  repose  the  ashes  of  many  a  learned  rabbin, 
while  over  all  appeared  the  graceful  rounded  top  of  Tabor. 
Farther  to  the  right,  on  the  white  strand,  I  saw  the  huts  of 
Magdala,  with  the  coast  of  Gennesaret  extending  from  it 
northward  to  Capernaum, — Christ’s  own  city.  Far  on  into 
the  night  I  sat  by  the  silent  shore  of  Galilee,  gazing,  now 
on  the  dark  outlines  of  hill  and  mountain,  now  on  the  cres¬ 
cent  moon,  as  she  rose  in  her  splendour,  and  now  on  the 
bright  stars,  as  they  hung  trembling  in  the  deep  dark  vault 
of  heaven. 


108  THE  JOED  AN  AND  THE  DEAD  SEA. 

“  All  things  were  caljn,  and  fair,  and  passive.  Earth 
Looked  as  if  lulled  upon  an  angel’s  lap 
Into  a  breathless  dewy  sleep ;  so  still, 

That  I  could  only  say  of  things,  they  be ! 

The  lakelet  now,  no  longer  vexed  with  gusts, 

Replaced  upon  her  breast  the  pictured  moon, 

Pearled  round  with  stars.” 

CHORAZIN,  BETHS  AIDA,  AND  CAPERNAUM. 

Before  the  morning  sun  o’ertopped  the  hills  of  Bashan  I 
was  in  the  saddle.  A  ride  of  three  miles  westward  along 
the  shore  brought  me  to  the  ruins  of  a  large  town.  It  was 
encompassed  by  such  a  dense  jungle  of  thorns,  thistles,  and 
rank  weeds,  that  I  had  to  employ  some  shepherds  to  open 
a  passage  for  me.  Clambering  to  the  top  of  a  shattered 
wall  I  was  able  to  overlook  the  whole  site.  What  a  scene 
of  desolation  was  that !  hfot  a  house,  not  a  wall,  not  a 
solitary  pillar  remains  standing.  Broken  columns,  hewn 
stones,  sculptured  slabs  of  marble,  and  great  shapeless 
heaps  of  rubbish,  half  concealed  by  thorns  and  briars,  alone 
serve  to  mark  the  site  of  a  great  and  rich  city.  The  Ara¬ 
bian  does  not  pitch  his  tent  there,  the  shepherd  does  not 
feed  his  hock  there, — not  a  sound  fell  upon  my  ear  as  I 
stood  amid  those  ruins  save  the  gentle  murmur  of  each  wave 
as  it  broke  upon  the  pebbly  beach,  and  the  mournful  sigh¬ 
ing  of  the  summer  breeze  through  sun-scorched  branches ; 
yet  that  is  the  place  where  Chorazin  once  stood !  Chora- 
zin  heard  but  rejected  the  words  of  mercy  from  the  lips  of 
its  Lord,  and  he  pronounced  its  doom, — “  T Voe  unto  thee , 
Chorazin  !  ”  (Matt.  xi.  21). 

After  riding  some  three  miles  farther  along  the  lake  I 
reached  a  little  retired  bay,  with  a  pebbly  strand, — just 
such  a  place  as  fishermen  would  delight  to  draw  up  their 
boats  and  spread  out  their  nets  upon.  Here  were  numerous 
fountains,  several  old  tanks  and  aqueducts,  great  heaps  of 
rubbish,  and  fields  of  ruin.  Two  Arab  tents  were  pitched 
a  little  way  up  on  the  hill  side,  but  I  saw  no  other  trace 
there  of  human  habitation  or  human  life  ;  and  yet  that 


CAPERNAUM. 


109 


is  the  site  of  JBethsaida , — the  city  of  Andrew  and  Peter, 
James  and  John  (John  i.  44;  Matt.  iv.  8;  Luke  */.  10). 
Upon  this  strand  Jesus  called  his  first  disciples.  Like 
Chorazin,  this  city  heard  and  rejected  his  words,  and  like 
Chorazin,  it  has  been  left  desolate.  “  Woe  unto  thee,  Beth 
saida !” 

A  few  minutes  more  and  I  reached  the  brow  of  a  bluff  pro¬ 
montory,  which  dips  into  the  bosom  of  the  lake.  Before 
me  now  opened  up  the  fertile  plain  of  Gennesaret.  At  my 
feet,  beneath  the  western  brow  of  the  clifi*,  a  little  fountain 
burst  from  a  rocky  basin.  A  fig-tree  spreads  its  branches 
over  it,  and  gives  it  a  name, — Ain-et-Tin ,  “the  fountain  of 
the  fig.”  Beside  it  are  some  massive  foundations,  scarcely 
distinguishable  amid  the  rank  weeds,  and  away  beyond  it, 
almost  covered  with  thickets  of  thorns,  briars,  and  gigantic 
thistles,  I  saw  large  heaps  of  ruins  and  rubbish.  These  are 
all  that  now  mark  the  site  of  Capernaum.  Christ’s  words 
are  fulfilled  to  the  letter, — “And  thou ,  Capernaum ,  which 
art  exalted  unto  heaven ,  shall  be  brought  down  to  hell ” 
(Matt.  xi.  23). 

On  that  day  I  climbed  a  peak  which  commands  the  lake, 
and  the  Jordan  valley  up  to  the  waters  of  Merom.  The 
principal  scene  of  Christ’s  public  labours  lay  around  me — a 
region  some  thirty  miles  long  by  ten  wide.  When  He  had 
his  home  at  Capernaum,  the  whole  country  was  teeming 
with  life,  and  bustle,  and  industry.  Ho  less  than  ten  large 
cities,  with  numerous  villages,  studded  the  shores  of  the 
lake,  and  the  plains  and  the  hill-sides  around.  The  water 
was  all  speckled  with  the  dark  boats  and  white  sails  of 
Galilee’s  fishermen.  Eager  multitudes  followed  the  foot¬ 
steps  of  Jesus,  through  the  city  streets,  over  the  flower- 
strewn  fields,  along  the  pebbly  beach.  What  a  woeful 
change  has  passed  over  the  land  since  that  time !  The 
Angel  of  destruction  has  been  there.  From  that  command¬ 
ing  height,  through  the  clear  Syrian  atmosphere,  I  Avas 
able  to  distinguish,  by  the  aid  of  my  glass,  every  spot  in 


110 


THE  JORDAN  AND  THE  DEAD  SEA. 


that  wide  region,  celebrated  in  sacred  history,  or  hallowed 
by  sacred  association.  My  eye  swept  the  lake  from  north 
to  south,  from  east  to  west ;  not  a  single  sail,  not  a  solitary 
boat  was  there.  My  eye  swept  the  great  Jordan  valley, 
the  little  plains,  the  glens,  the  mountain  sides  from  base  to 
summit — not  a  city,  not  a  village,  not  a  house,  not  a  sign  of 
settled  habitation  was  there,  except  the  few  huts  of  Mag- 
dala,  and  the  shattered  houses  of  Tiberias.  A  mournful  and 
solitary  silence  reigned  triumphant.  Desolation  keeps  un¬ 
broken  Sabbath  in  Galilee  now.  Nature  has  lavished  on 
the  country  some  of  her  choicest  gifts ; — a  rich  soil,  a  ge¬ 
nial  climate ;  but  the  curse  of  heaven  has  come  upon  it  be¬ 
cause  of  the  sin  of  man.  I  saw  how  wondrously  time  has 
changed  a  prophetic  sentence  into  a  graphic  reality.  “_Z 
will  make  your  cities  waste ,  saith  the  Lord  /  I  will  hrmg 
the  land  into  desolation.  I  will  scatter  you  among  the  hea¬ 
then.  Upon  the  land  shall  come  up  thorns  and  briars /  yea, 
upon  all  the  houses  of  joy  in  the  joyous  city.  /So  that 
the  generation  to  come  of  your  children  that  shall  rise  up 
after  you ,  and  the  stranger  that  shall  come  from  a  far  land , 
shall  say ,  when  they  see  the  plagues  of  that  land ,  Wherefore 
hath  the  Lord  done  thus  unto  this  land?  What  meaneth 
the  heat  of  this  great  anger  ?  ”  ( Lev.  xxvi. ;  Deut.  xxix. ; 
Isa.  xxxii.) 


THE  LOWER  JORDAN. 

Between  the  Lake  of  Galilee  and  the  Dead  Sea  lies  a  long: 
deep  valley,  varying  from  five  to  ten  miles  in  breadth,  and 
shut  in  by  the  parallel  mountain  ranges  of  Samaria  and 
Gilead.  Down  the  centre  of  this  valley,  in  the  bed  of  a 
deep  ravine,  winds  the  river  Jordan.  It  has  two  distinct 
lines  of  banks.  The  first  or  lower  banks  confine  the  stream, 
are  comparatively  low,  generally  alluvial,  and  thickly 
fringed  with  foliage.  The  second,  or  upper  banks  are  at 
some  distance  from  the  channel — occasionally  nearly  half  a 
mile  apart,  and  in  places  they  rise  to  a  height  of  one  hund- 


scene  of  Christ’s  baptism. 


Ill 


red  and  fifty  feet.  The  appearance  of  the  river  itself  is  ex¬ 
ceedingly  varied.  Now  it  sweeps  gracefully  round  a  green 
meadow,  softly  kissing  with  its  rippling  waves  the  blushing 
flowers  of  the  oleander  as  they  bend  over  it; — now  it  clasps 
a  wooded  islet  in  its  shining  arms; — now  fretted  by  project¬ 
ing  cliffs,  and  opposed  by  rocky  ledges,  it  dashes  madly 
forward  in  sheets  of  foam. 

One  bridge  alone  spans  the  river,  on  the  road  which 
joins  the  ancient  cities  of  Bethshean  and  Gadara.  But  the 
ruins  of  many  others  are  visible,  and  the  fords  are  numer¬ 
ous.  Of  the  latter,  one  of  the  most  remarkable  is  Succoth , 
where  Jacob  crossed  with  his  flocks  and  herds  (Gen.  xxxiii. 
IV),  and  where  the  fleeing  hosts  of  Zebah  and  Zahnunna 
suffered  so  terribly  from  the  Israelites  (Judges  vii.  24,  sq. ; 
viii.  4-10).  The  plain  around  Succoth  is  abundantly  wat¬ 
ered  by  fountains  and  streamlets  from  the  mountains.  The 
soil  is  exceedingly  rich.  Dr.  Bobinson  says  of  it,  “The 
grass  intermingled  with  tall  daisies  and  wild  oats,  reached 
to  our  horses’  backs,  while  the  thistles  sometimes  over¬ 
topped  the  riders’  heads.”  Jacob  showed  his  usual  worldly 
wisdom,  when  he  encamped  at  this  favoured  spot,  and 
“  made  booths  ( Succoth )  for  his  cattle.” 

But  the  most  interesting  spot  on  the  Jordan  is  unques¬ 
tionably  that  now  called  the  “  pilgrims’  bathing-place,”  op¬ 
posite  Jericho.  Here  the  channel  is  deep,  the  current  rapid, 
and  yet,  on  three  different  occasions,  the  river  was  stayed 
by  a  miracle,  and  the  channel  left  dry,  to  let  God’s  people 
pass  over.  And  an  interest  still  higher  and  holier  clings  to 
it.  It  is  the  scene  of  Christ’s  baptism.  Sitting  here  one 
day  on  the  river’s  bank,  beneath  the  shade  of  a  great  wil¬ 
low  tree,  I  read  in  succession  the  Bible  narratives  of  the 
passage  of  the  Israelites  under  Joshua,  of  the  translation  of 
Elijah,  and  of  the  baptism  of  Tesus;  and  then  looking  up  on 
those  grey  bluffs  that  bound  the  narrow  ravine,  I  involun¬ 
tarily  exclaimed,  “  Oh,  that  my  eyes  had  seen  those  glorious 
events  of  which  you  were  the  witnesses !  Oh,  that  the 


112 


THE  JORDAN  AND  THE  DEAD  SEA. 


eye  of  sense  had  witnessed  what  the  eye  of  faith  now  con¬ 
templates  ! — The  marshalled  hosts  of  Israel ;  the  ark  on 
which  rested  the  Shekinah  glory;  then  the  fiery  Chariot 
bearing  God’s  prophet  to  heaven ;  and  last  of  all,  4  the 
Dove,’  the  Heavenly  Hove,  coming  down  and  abiding  upon 
the  Saviour.” 

It  was  in  the  month  of  April  I  visited  this  “  holy  place  ” 
on  the  Jordan.  It  was  already  the  time  of  harvest,  for 
the  people  of  Jericho  were  reaping  their  little  fields  up  on 
the  plain.  And  we  are  told  that  “  Jordan  overfioweth  all 
his  banks  all  the  time  of  harvest”  (Joshua  iii.  15 ;  1  Chron. 
xii.  15).  The  fact  is  still  true,  though  Palestine  is  changed. 
The  heavy  rains  of  early  spring  falling  on  the  northern 
mountains,  and  the  winter  snow  melting  on  the  sides  of 
Hermon,  send  a  thousand  tributaries  to  the  sacred  river. 
It  rises  to  the  top  of  the  lower  banks,  and  when  I  was 
there,  the  ruddy,  swollen  waters  had  flowed  over  and  cov¬ 
ered  portions  of  the  verdant  meadows  on  each  side. 

Mounting  my  horse,  I  followed  the  tortuous  river  to  its 
mouth,  and  saw  it  empty  its  waters  into  that  sea  of  death. 
One  would  almost  think  they  flow  in  reluctantly,  for  the 
current  becomes  slower  and  slower,  and  the  channel  wider 
and  wider,  till  at  length  water  touches  water,  and  the  Jor¬ 
dan  is  lost.  Such  is  this  sacred  river,  without  a  parallel, 
historical  or  physical,  in  the  whole  world.  A  complete 
river  beneath  the  level  of  the  ocean,,  disappearing  in  a 
lake  which  has  no  outlet,  and  which  could  have  none.  In 
whatever  way  we  regard  it,  the  Jordan  stands  alone. 

THE  DEAD  SEA. 

The  Head  Sea  fills  up  the  southern  end  of  the  Jordan  val¬ 
ley.  It  is  about  fifty  miles  in  length  from  north  to  south, 
by  ten  in  breadth.  The  mountain  chains  which  shut  in  the 
valley  become  here  steeper,  wilder,  and  bleaker.  In  some 
places  they  rise  in  lofty  precipices  of  naked  rock  from  the 
bosom  of  the  waters;  in  others  they  retire,  forming  wild 


SCENERY  OF  THE  DEAD  SEA. 


.113 


nooks  and  yawning  ravines,  fitting  homes  for  the  wild  goats 

which  still  inhabit  them.  The  scenery  of  the  lake  is  hare 

%> 

and  desolate,  hut  grand.  The  water  is  clear  and  spark¬ 
ling,  deep  and  beautiful  azure  when  the  sky  is  cloudless, 
hut  reflecting  vividly  every  changing  hue  of  the  firmament. 
In  summer,  when  the  heat  is  intense,  a  thin,  whitish  quiver¬ 
ing  vapour  hangs  over  the  surface  of  the  water,  and  gives 
a  strange  dreamy  indistinctness  to  the  mountains.  At  the 
northern  and  southern  ends,  the  flat  plains  are  parched,  and 
barren,  in  part  covered  with  fine  sand,  and  in  part  with  a 
white  nitrous  coating  like  hoar  frost.  Brackish  and  sulphur 
springs  occur  at  intervals  around  the  whole  borders  of  the 
lake.  Some  of  them  are  warm,  and  send  up  clouds  of 
steam.  At  one  or  two  places  along  the  western  shore,  and 
also  at  the  southern  end  of  the  lake  are  slimy  pools  and 
marshes,  whose  exhalations  of  sulphuretted-hydrogen  taint 
the  atmosphere  for  miles.  Strewn  along  the  northern  shore, 
especially  near  the  mouth  of  the  Jordan,  lie  large  quanti¬ 
ties  of  drift  wood,  brought  down  by  the  swollen  river,  and 
it  is  everywhere  encrusted  with  salt  crystals.  The  great 
depression,  the  fierce  rays  of  an  unclouded  sun,  the  white 
mountain  chains  on  each  side,  and  the  white  soil  below  re¬ 
flecting  the  sun’s  rays,  give  the  whole  basin  of  the  Dead 
Sea  a  temperature  like  that  of  a  furnace.  Never  did  I 
suffer  so  much  from  intense  suffocating  heat  as  during  the 
days  I  spent  on  the  shores  of  the  lake. 

Yet  still  it  cannot  be  called  a  “  sea  of  death,”  in  that 
sense  in  which  travellers  in  former  ages  were  wont  to  re¬ 
present  it.  It  has  been  stated  that  no  vegetation  could 
exist  along  its  shores,  and  that  no  bird  could  fly  over  it ; 
that,  in  fact,  its  poisonous  exhalations  are  fatal  alike  to  ani¬ 
mal  and  vegetable  life.  This  is  altogether  untrue.  At 
every  little  fountain  along  the  shores,  the  vegetation  has  a 
tropical  luxuriance.  I  have  seen  the  oleander  dipping  its 
gorgeous  flowers  into  the  lake ;  and  I  have  seen  the  willow 
and  the  tamarisk,  and  numerous  other  shrubs  flourishing: 


114 


THE  JORDAN  AND  THE  DEAD  SEA. 


where  their  stems  were  at  certain  seasons  immersed  in  the 
waters.  The  cane-brakes  on  the  shore  abound  with  wild 
fowl ;  and  occasionally  flocks  of  ducks  may  be  seen  swim¬ 
ming  far  out  on  the  sea.  The  water,  however,  is  intolera¬ 
bly  salt  and  bitter,  and  no  fish  could  live  in  it.  Yet  it  is 
not  altogether  destitute  of  living  creatures,  a  few  inferior 
organizations  having  been  found  in  it  by  recent  naturalists. 
Its  specific  gravity  is  so  great  that  the  human  body  will 
not  sink  in  it.  I  have  tried  it  myself,  and  can,  therefore, 
testify  to  the  truth  of  the  fact.  This  is  easily  accounted 
for.  The  weight  of  water  increases  in  proportion  to  the 
quantity  of  salt  it  contains  in  solution.  Ordinary  sea  water 
has  about  four  per  cent,  of  salt,  whilst  that  of  the  Dead  Sea 
contains  more  than  twenty-six  per  cent. 

The  Dead  Sea  is  thus  a  physical  wonder,  and,  strange  to 
say,  it  is  also  a  historical  wonder.  It  would  appear  that 
in  ancient  times,  it  was  much  smaller  than  it  is  at  present, 
leaving  room  for  a  large  and  fertile  plain  on  which  the 
cities  of  Sodom,  Gomorrah,  Admah,  and  Zeboim  once 
stood  (compare  Gen.  xiii.  10-12).  The  cities  were  burned 
by  fire  from  heaven,  and  the  whole  plain,  or,  as  it  was 
called,  “the  vale  of  Siddim”  (xiv.  8),  was  covered  with 
water  (xiv.  3).  Recent  exjDlorations  of  the  sea  and  of  the 
surrounding  region  tend,  I  believe,  to  throw  some  light  on 
one  of  the  most  remarkable  events  of  physical  geography 
and  of  Biblical  history.  The  northern  section  of  the  lake, 
from  the  mouth  of  the  Jordan  to  the  promontory  of  Lisan, 
is  immensely  deep,  varying  from  forty  to  two  hundred  and 
eighteen  fathoms.  But  the  whole  southern  section  is  shal¬ 
low, — only  a  few  feet  of  water  covering  an  extensive  flat, 
in  which  bitumen  pits,  and  bituminous  limestone  abound, 
The  latter  appears  to  have  been  the  plain  of  Sodom,  for  we 
learn  from  Gen.  xix.  27,  28,  that  the  plain  was  visible  from 
a  hill-top  near  Hebron,  which  would  not  be  true  of  any  part 
of  the  Jordan  valley  north  of  En-gedi.  The  Bible  further 
informs  us  that  “  the  vale  of  Siddim  was  full  of  slime  pits,” 


DESTRUCTION  OF  SODOM. 


115 


that  is,  pits  or  wells  of  bitumen  (xiv.  10).  Now  we  know 
that  bitumen  burns  like  oil,  and  bituminous  limestone  is 
also  inflammable.  May  not  the  houses  of  Sodom  and  the 
other  cities  have  been  built  of  the  latter,  and,  like  the  tower 
of  Babel,  cemented  with  the  former  ?  And  if  so,  when  once 
ignited  by  fire  from  heaven,  they  would  burn  rapidly  and 
fiercely, — nay,  the  whole  plain  filled  with  its  bitumen  pits, 
and  strewn  with  inflammable  stones,  would  burn  like  a 
coal-field.  How  strikingly  does  this  seem  to  illustrate  the 
words  of  Scripture, — “And  Abraham  gat  up  early  in  the 
morning  (from  his  tent  at  Mamre)  to  the  place  where  he 
stood  before  the  Lord  (compare  xviii.  16,  22),  And  he  looked 
toward  Sodom  and  Gomorrah  and  toward  all  the  land  of 
the  plain,  and  behold,  and  lo,  the  smoke  of  the  country  went 
up  as  the  smoke  of  u  furnace”  (Gen.  xix.  27,  28). 


JERUSALEM  AND  ITS  ENVIRONS. 


rit  s  a  I  *  m  ♦ 

*  Beautiful  for  situation,  the  joy  of  the  whole  earth,  is  Mount  Zion,  on  the  sides  of  the 
north,  the  city  of  the  great  King.” — Ps.  xlviii.  2. 

T  is  not  strange  that  my  first  night  on  the  Mount 
of  Olives  was  sleepless.  Though  the  preceding 
night  had  been  spent  in  the  saddle,  and  the  pre¬ 
ceding  day  in  fatiguing  travel,  yet  the  vision  of 
Jerusalem,  which  I  had  that  day  seen  for  the  first  time,  re¬ 
mained  so  vivid  before  my  mind’s  eye,  that  it  banished  all 
thought  of  sleep  and  all  sense  of  fatigue.  For  hours  I  lay 
absorbed  in  the  stirring  memories  of  the  distant  past,  which 
holy  scenes  had  called  up  and  invested  with  the  charm  of 
reality.  Mount  Zion, — Moriah,  crowned  of  yore  with  the 
halo  of  the  Shekinah  glory, — Gethsemane,  bedewed  with 
the  tears,  and  stained  by  the  bloody-sweat  of  the  Son  of 
man, — Olivet,  where  Jesus  so  often  taught  and  prayed, — 
they  were  all  there,  each  with  its  wondrous  story  written  as 
if  in  letters  of  light.  Longing  for  the  morning,  I  once  and 
again  rose  from  my  bed  and  threw  open  the  lattice.  The 
stars  hung  out  like  diamond  lamps  from  the  black  vault 
of  heaven,  shining  with  a  sparkling  lustre  unknown  in  our 
hazy  west,  and  revealing  in  dim  outline  the  walls  and  tow¬ 
ers  of  the  Holy  City  sleeping  peacefully  away  below. 

I  was  specially  favoured  during  my  first  visit  to  Jeru¬ 
salem.  An  old  friend  had  rented  a  little  tower  high  up  on 

a 


120 


JERUSALEM  AND  ITS  ENVIRONS. 


the  western  side  of  Olivet,  commanding  a  noble  view  of  the 
Holy  City  and  the  surrounding  country  from  Bethlehem  to 
Mizpeh.  It  was  one  of  those  square  turrets  which  in  re¬ 
cent,  as  in  ancient  times,  proprietors  sometimes  built  in 
their  vineyards  as  residences  for  keepers  and  temporary 
store-houses  for  fruit  (Isa.  v.  2 ;  Matt.  xxi.  33).  Here  I 
took  up  my  quarters,  and  from  the  open  window  or  the  ter¬ 
raced  roof,  at  all  hours,  day  and  night,  I  gazed  on  that 
wondrous  landscape.  During  the  soft,  ruddy  morning 
twilight, — at  the  full  blaze  of  noon-day, — in  the  dead  still¬ 
ness  of  night,  when  the  moon  shed  her  silver  rays  on  the 
white  walls  and  roofs  of  the  city,  my  eyes  were  upon  it, — 
never  wearying,  never  satisfied,  but  ever  detecting  some 
new  beauty  in  tint  or  form,  some  fresh  spot  of  sacred  inter¬ 
est  or  historic  renown.  While  I  live  I  can  never  forget 
that  view  of 

JERUSALEM  FROM  THE  MOUNT  OF  OLIVES. 

Morning  dawned ;  and  with  my  kind  host,  to  whom  every 
spot  in  and  around  Jerusalem  was  familiar,  I  ascended  to 
the  terraced  roof.  Behind  Olivet,  on  the  east,  the  sky  was 
all  aglow  with  red  light,  which  shot  slanting  across  the 
hill-tops  and  projecting  cliffs,  and  upon  the  walls  and  prom¬ 
inent  buildings  of  the  city,  throwing  them  up  in  bold  re¬ 
lief  from  the  deeply  shaded  glens.  Ho  time  could  have 
been  more  opportune,  no  spot  better  fitted  for  seeing  and 
studying  the  general  topography  of  the  Holy  City.  The 
whole  site  was  before  us,  distinct  and  full,  like  a  vast  and 
beautiful  embossed  picture.  At  our  feet,  along  the  base  of 
Olivet,  was  the  Kidron,  a  deep  and  narrow  glen,  coming 
down  from  an  undulating  plateau  on  the  right,  and  disap¬ 
pearing  round  the  shoulder  of  the  hill  on  the  left ;  its  banks 
terraced,  and  dotted  here  and  there  with  little  groves  and 
single  olive  trees.  Directly  opposite  us  was  Mount  Moriah, 
its  bare  sides  rising  precipitously  from  the  bottom  of  the 
Kidron  to  a  height  of  some  two  hundred  feet.  On  its  sum- 


THE  SITE  OF  THE  TEMPLE. 


121 


mit  is  a  rectangular  platform,  about  thirty  acres  in  extent, 
and  taking  up  Yuliy  one-half  of  the  eastern  side  of  the  city. 
It  is  encompassed  and  supported  by  a  massive  wall,  in  some 
places  nearly  eighty  feet  high,  and  looking  even  higher 
where  it  impends  over  the  ravine.  This  platform  consti¬ 
tutes  by  far  the  most  striking  feature  of  the  city.  It  is 
unique.  There  is  nothing  like  it  in  the  world.  Its  history, 
too,  is  wonderful.  It  has  been  “  a  holy  place  ”  for  more 
than  thirty  centuries.  Its  Cyclopean  walls  were  founded 
by  Solomon.  Upon  it  stood  the  Temple,  in  whose  shrine 
the  Glory  of  the  Lord  so  often  appeared,  and  in  whose 
courts  the  Son  of  God  so  often  taught.  It  is  still  to  the 
Muslem  el-TIaram  esh-Sherif. \  “the  noble  sanctuary,”  and, 
next  to  Mecca,  the  most  venerated  sanctuary  in  the  world. 
The  platform  itself — simple,  massive,  and  grand  —  is  a 
striking  object;  but  the  buildings  it  contains  greatly  con¬ 
tribute  to  its  beauty.  In  its  centre;  on  a  raised  area  of 
white  marble,  stands  one  of  the  most  splendid  mosques  in 
the  world,  octagonal  in  form,  encrusted  with  encaustic  tiles 
of  gorgeous  colours,  and  surmounted  by  a  graceful  dome. 
From  its  area  the  ground  slopes  away  to  the  encircling 
ramparts  in  gentle  undulations  of  green  turf,  diversified 
with  marble  arcades,  gilded  cupolas,  fountains  and  prayer- 
niches;  and  interspersed  with  venerable  cypresses,  olives, 
and  palms.  At  the  southern  end  is  a  large  group  of  stately 
buildings,  including  the  Mosque  el-Aksa,  once  the  Church 
of  the  Virgin ;  and  round  the  sides  of  the  platform  are  clois¬ 
ters,  here  and  there  covered  with  domes,  and  surmounted 
by  tall  minarets.  The  quiet  seclusion  of  this  sanctuary,  the 
rich  green  of  its  grass  and  foliage,  the  dazzling  whiteness 
of  its  pavements  and  fountains,  the  brilliant  tints  of  the 
central  mosque,  and,  above  all,  its  sacred  associations,  make 
it  one  of  the  most  charming  and  interesting  spots  on  earth. 

Just  behind  Moriah  the  Tyropean  Valley  was  distinctly 
marked  by  a  deeply-shaded  belt,  running  from  north  to 
south  through  the  city.  Beyond  it  rose  Zion,  higher  and 


122 


JERUSALEM  AND  ITS  ENVIRONS. 


longer  than  Moriah ;  in  front,  a  confused  mass  of  terraced 
roofs,  tier  above  tier;  farther  back  are  seen  the  white 
buildings  of  the  Armenian  Convent,  like  an  immense  fac¬ 
tory  ;  more  to  the  right  the  new  English  church ;  and  in  the 
background,  crowning  the  hill,  the  massive  square  keep  of 
the  Castle  of  David.  The  southern  section  of  Zion  is  now 
outside  the  city  wall;  and  there  a  high  minaret  and  cupola 
mark  the  tomb  of  David.  From  it  the  hill  sinks  into  the 
Valley  of  Hinnom  in  steep  terraced  slopes,  covered  with 
vineyards,  olives,  and  corn-fields.  As  I  looked,  a  moving 
object  in  one  of  the  fields  rivetted  my  attention.  “  Haste, 
give  me  the  glass,”  I  said.  I  turned  it  upon  the  spot. 
Yes,  I  was  right ;  a  plough  and  yoke  of  oxen  were  there  at 
work.  Jeremiah’s  prophecy  was  fulfilled  before  my  eyes: 
“ Zion  shall  he  ploughed  like  a  field  ”  (xxvi.  18). 

Along  the  further  side  of  Zion  runs  the  deep  glen  of  Hin¬ 
nom,  which,  turning  eastward,  sweeps  round  the  southern 
end  of  the  hill  and  joins  the  Kidron  at  En-Kogel.  These 
two  ravines  form  the  great  physical  boundaries  and  bar¬ 
riers  of  Jerusalem ;  they  completely  cut  it  off  from  the  sur¬ 
rounding  table-land;  and  they  isolate  the  hills  on  which 
it  stands,  and  those  other  hills,  too,  or  hill-tops,  which  as 
the  Psalmist  tells  us,  “  are  round  about  Jerusalem”  (cxxv. 
2).  These  natural  barriers  also  served  to  confine  the  city 
within  regular  and  definite  limits — to  prevent  it  from  send¬ 
ing  forth  straggling  suburbs  and  offshoots  as  most  other 
cities  do;  hence  it  was  said,  “Jerusalem  is  builded  as  a  city 
that  is  compact  together  ”  (Ps.  cxxii.  3). 

A  high  battlemented  wall  encompasses  the  modern  city. 
It  runs  for  half  a  mile  along  the  brow  of  the  Kidron  valley, 
facing  Olivet,  then  turns  at  right  angles  and  zigzags  across 
Moriah,  the  Tyropean,  and  Zion  to  the  brow  of  Hinnom. 
The  whole  circuit  is  two  miles  and  a  half.  The  city  was 
always  fortified,  and  the  walls  and  towers  formed  its  most 
prominent  features.  Hence  the  language  of  the  exulting 
Psalmist,  “Walk  about  Zion,  and  go  round  about  her:  tell 


SCENERY  OF  THE  ENVIRONS. 


123 


the  towers  thereof,  mark  ye  well  her  bulwarks.”  Jerusalem 
has  no  suburbs.  There  is  no  shading  off  of  the  city  into 
the  country — long  streets  radiating  from  a  centre,  then 
straggling  houses,  and  villas,  and  gardens,  such  as  we  are 
accustomed  to  see  in  English  towns.  The  moment  you  pass 
the  gates  of  Jerusalem  you  are  in  the  country — a  country 
open,  bare,  without  a  single  house,  and  almost  desolate. 
Not  a  green  spot  is  visible,  and  not  a  tree,  save  here  and 
there  a  little  clump  of  gnarled,  dusky  olives.  Rounded 
hill-tops,  and  long  reaches  of  plain,  strewn  with  heaps  of 
grey  limestone,  extend  from  the  walls  far  away  to  the 
north  and  south.  There  is  no  grandeur,  beauty,  or  rich¬ 
ness  in  the  scenery.  It  is  bleak  and  featureless.  Hence 
the  sad  disappointment  felt  by  most  travellers  on  approach¬ 
ing  Jerusalem  from  the  west  and  north.  They  can  only  see 
the  serried  line  of  grey  Saracenic  walls  extending  across  a 
section  of  a  bleak,  rocky  plateau.  But  when  I  stood  that 
morning  on  the  brow  of  Olivet,  and  looked  down  on  the 
city,  crowning  those  battlemented  heights,  encircled  by 
those  deep  and  dark  ravines,  I  involuntarily  exclaimed, — 
“j Beautiful  for  situation ,  the  joy  of  the  whole  earth ,  is 
Mount  Zion ,  the  city  of  the  great  King  ”  (Ps.  xlviii.  2). 
And  as  I  gazed,  the  red  rays  of  the  rising  sun  shed  a  halo 
round  the  top  of  the  Castle  of  David ;  then  they  tipped 
with  gold  each  tapering  minaret,  and  gilt  each  dome  of 
mosque  and  church ;  and  at  length  bathed  in  one  flood  of 
ruddy  light  the  terraced  roofs  of  the  city,  and  the  grass 
and  foliage,  the  cupolas,  pavements,  and  colossal  walls  of 
the  Haram. — No  human  being  could  be  disappointed  who 
first  saw  Jerusalem  from  Olivet. 

WALKS  THROUGH  THE  CITY. 

In  the  eastern  wall  there  is  but  one  gate,  and  all  the 
paths  from  Olivet  and  Bethany  meet  there.  Instead  of 
entering,  however,  we  turn  to  the  left,  and  soon  reach  the 
square  tower  on  the  north-east  angle  of  the  Haram.  The 


124 


JERUSALEM  AND  ITS  ENVIRONS. 


enormous  size  of  the  stones  in  the  lower  courses  of  the  ma¬ 
sonry — some  of  them  being  more  than  twenty  feet  long — • 
and  the  moulding  of  their  edges,  prove  that  the  building 
was  founded  not  later  than  the  time  of  Herod,  and  proba 
bly  much  earlier.  It  was  one  of  the  external  defences  of 
the  fortress  of  Antonia,  where  the  Roman  garrison  was 
quartered,  and  in  which  was  Pilate’s  “Judgment  Hall” 
where  our  Lord  was  condemned  (Matt,  xxvii.  19). 

Proceeding  southwards,  we  reach  an  ancient  gate,  which, 
though  now  walled  up,  is  the  most  striking  object  on  this 
side  of  the  city.  Travellers  usually  call  it  “  The  Golden 
Gate but  its  florid  capitals  and  entablatures,  and  its  de¬ 
based  Corinthian  columns  and  pilasters  are  not  older  than 
the  fourth  century;  and,  consequently,  it  cannot  be  reck¬ 
oned  one  of  the  gates  of  the  temple. 

The  Valley  of  Judgment  —  Muslem  tradition. — After 
passing  the  gate,  my  companion  directed  my  attention  to  the 
end  of  a  granite  column  projecting  from  the  wall  far  over¬ 
head,  to  which  the  Mohammedans  have  attached  a  curious 
tradition.  On  it,  they  say,  their  Prophet  will  sit  on  the 
last  day  to  direct  the  work  of  the  final  judgment  in  the 
valley  beneath.  That  part  of  the  tradition  which  locates 
the  judgment  in  the  Kidron,  or  “Valley  of  Jehoshaphat,” 
they  have  borrowed  from  the  Jews,  and  it  has  its  origin  in 
a  misinterpretation  of  Joel  iii.  12.  But  be  this  as  it  may, 
the  belief  exercises  a  powerful  influence  alike  on  Jews  and 
Mohammedans.  The  favourite  burying-place  of  the  latter 
is  the  narrow  ledge  outside  the  Haram  wall,  on  the  brow 
of  the  Kidron;  and  the  Jews  often  travel  from  the  ends 
of  the  earth  that  they  may  lay  their  bones  in  the  vast  ceme- 
try  which  covers  the  opposite  bank  of  the  ravine. 

The  Pinnacle  of  the  Temple. — The  south-eastern  angle 
of  the  Haram  is  a  most  interesting  relic  of  ancient  Jerusa¬ 
lem.  It  is  nearly  eighty  feet  high.  In  its  lower  part  are 
sixteen  courses  of  bevelled  stones,  forming  one  of  the  finest 
specimens  of  masonry  in  the  world.  The  joints  are  so 


PINNACLE  OF  THE  TEMPLE. 


125 


close,  and  the  finish  of  the  moulding  so  perfect,  that  when 
new  it  must  have  produced  the  effect  of  relievo  panelling. 
On  looking  at  this  noble  work,  the  narrative  in  Mark  xiii. 
assumed  a  fresh  interest  for  me : — “  And  as  He  went  out  of 
the  temple,  one  of  His  disciples  saith  unto  Him,  Master, 
See  what  manner  of  stones  and  what  buildings  are  here.” 
The  “  chief  corner-stones  ”  surpass  all  the  others  in  size  and 
finish.  They  measure  twenty  feet  by  six,  and  are  designed 
alike  for  strength  and  beauty.  How  graphic  must  the 
words  of  Isaiah  have  been  to  the  old  Jews  who  frequented 
the  temple  courts,  and  were  familiar  with  these  colossal 
stones  !  “  Behold  I  lay  in  Zion  for  a  foundation ,  a  stone , 

a  tried  stone ,  a  precious  corner-stone ,  a  sure  foundation  ” 
(xxviii.  16) ;  and  how  beautifully  expressive  is  the  language 
of  the  Psalmist ! — “  Our  daughters  as  corner-stones ,  polished 
after  the  similitude  of  a  palace”  (cxliv.  12). 

The  angle  springs  from  the  very  brow  of  the  valley ;  and 
upon  its  summit  stood,  in  Herod’s  time,  a  splendid  tower, 
uniting  the  royal  cloisters  which  ran  along  the  southern  side 
of  the  temple  court,  to  the  cloisters  or  “  porch  ”  of  Solomon 
(John  x.  23),  which  occupied  the  eastern  side.  Josephus 
thus  describes  the  stupendous  height  of  this  tower: — “If 
any  one  looked  down  from  the  top  of  the  battlements,  or 
down  both  those  altitudes,  he  would  be  giddy,  while  his 
sight  could  not  reach  to  such  an  immense  depth.”  There 
can  be  little  doubt  that  this  was  “  the  pinnacle  of  the  tem¬ 
ple”  on  which  Satan  placed  our  Lord  in  the  temptation 
(Matt,  iv.) 

Turning  the  corner,  we  walked  on  to  the  place  where 
the  modern  city  wall  meets  the  ancient  Haram  wall  at 
right  angles;  and  just  at  the  point  of  junction  we  observed 
part  of  an  old  gateway.  We  examined  it  in  passing;  but 
at  a  subsequent  period  I  was  enabled  to  explore  it  thor¬ 
oughly  inside  and  out.  The  gate  is  double,  and  formerly 
opened  into  a  long  tunnelled  passage,  leading  up  by  an  in¬ 
clined  plane  and  steps  to  the  centre  of  the  Haram.  It  was 


126 


JERUSALEM  AND  ITS  ENVIRONS. 


evidently  intended  for  the  accommodation  of  the  inhabitants 
of  the  lower  part  of  the  city;  probably  for  the  Nethinims 
and  others  who  lived  down  in  Ophel,  to  give  them  easy 
access  to  the  temple  (Neh.  iii.  26 ;  xi.  21). 

Solomon's  “ Ascent ”  to  the  Temple. —  There  is  no  gate 
in  the  city  wall  near  the  Haram,  and  we  must,  consequent¬ 
ly,  pass  round  towards  Zion  to  a  little  postern  which  is 
usually  open  upon  Fridays.  Entering  by  it,  we  suddenly 
find  ourselves  in  a  wilderness  of  ruins  and  rubbish  heaps, 
overgrown  with  rank  weeds  and  straggling  jungles  of  the 
giant  cactus.  The  shattered  and  half-ruinous  houses  of  the 
Jewish  quarter  are  away  up  on  the  left,  clinging  to  the 
precipitous  side  of  Zion.  A  tortuous  path,  encumbered  with 
filth,  and  noisome  with  the  putrid  remains  of  cats,  dogs, 
camels,  and  other  animals,  winds  through  this  scene  of  des¬ 
olation.  As  we  pass  along,  we  cannot  but  recall  the  words 
of  Micah,  for  his  prediction  is  fulfilled  before  our  eyes : — • 
“Therefore  shall  Zion  for  your  sake  be  plowed  as  a  field, 
and  Jerusalem  shall  become  heaps ,  and  the  mountain  of  the 
house  as  the  high  places  of  the  forest  ”  (iii.  12).  At  length 
we  reach  the  south-west  angle  of  the  Haram,  and  feel  am¬ 
ply  repaid  for  a  toilsome  and  unpleasant  walk.  The  ma¬ 
sonry  here  is  even  grander  than  that  of  the  other  angle, 
and  the  “  corner-stones  ”  are  still  more  colossal ;  one  meas¬ 
ures  thirty  feet  by  six  and  a  half !  This  angle  stands  on 
the  brow  of  the  Tyropean  valley,  which  separated  Moriah 
from  Zion,  but  which  is  now  in  a  great  measure  filled  up 
with  rubbish. 

Some  forty  feet  from  the  angle,  on  the  western  side,  are 
three  courses  of  colossal  masonry  projecting  from  the  wall, 
and  forming  the  springing  stones  of  a  large  arch.  These 
stones  have  within  the  last  few  years  attracted  no  little 
attention,  and  given  rise  to  no  small  amount  of  controversy. 
And  this  is  not  strange,  for  they  are  unquestionably  a  rem 
nant  of  the  bridge  that  once  connected  Moriah  and  Zion. 
Calculating  by  the  curve  of  the  part  which  remains,  we  find 


Solomon’s  bridge.  127 

that  .the  span  of  the  arch  must  have  been  about  forty  feet, 
and  five  such  arches  would  be  required  to  cross  the  Tyro- 
pean.  That  the  bridge  existed  in  our  Lord’s  time  we  learn 
from  Josephus.  It  is  also  mentioned  during  the  siege  by 
Pompey  twenty  years  before  Herod  was  made  king.  The 
exact  date  of  the  fragment  still  remaining,  cannot,  of  course, 
be  precisely  fixed.  One  thing,  however,  is  certain,  that  it 
is  coeval  with  the  massive  foundations  of  the  southern  an¬ 
gles  of  the  Haram.  One  of  the  three  courses  is  five  feet 
four  inches  high,  the  others  are  a  little  less.  One  of  the 
stones  is  twenty-four  feet  long,  another  twenty,  and  the 
rest  in  proportion.  The  Cyclopean  dimensions,  and  peculiar 
character  of  the  masonry,  indicate  a  far  higher  antiquity 
than  Herod  the  Great,  and  would  seem  to  point  back  to 
the  earliest  age  of  the  Jewish  monarchy.  We  read  in  1 
Kings  vii.  10,  that  the  foundations  of  Solomon’s  temple 
were  formed  of  “  costly  sto?ies ,  even  great  stones  ;  stones  of 
ten  cubits ,  and  stones  of  eight  cubits  ....  And  the  great 
court  round  about  was  with  three  rows  of  hewed  stones .” 
In  three  passages  of  Scripture  a  remarkable  “  ascent ,”  or 
“  causeway ,”  is  mentioned,  leading  from  the  palace  to  the 
temple,  and  specially  intended  for  the  use  of  the  king 
(1  Kings  x.  5 ;  1  Chron.  xxvi.  16;  2  Chron.  ix.  4).  May  we 
not  identify  this  “  ascent  ”  with  the  “  viaduct  ”  which,  ac¬ 
cording  to  Josephus,  connected  the  royal  palace  on  Zion 
with  the  temple  court  ?  Such  a  monument  of  genius  and 
power  might  well  make  a  deep  impression  on  the  mind  of 
the  Queen  of  Sheba  in  that  remote  age;  and  thus  a  new 
interest  is  attached  to  the  story : — “  And  when  the  Queen 
of  Sheba  had  seen  the  wisdom  of  Solomon,  and  the  house 
he  had  built,  .  .  .  and  his  ascent  by  which  he  went  up  into 
the  house  of  the  Lord ,  there  was  no  more  spirit  in  her  A 
What  a  tram  of  associations,  holy  and  historic,  and  what 
a  crowd  of  feelings,  joyous  and  sorrowful,  do  these  few 
stones  awaken !  Over  the  noble  bridge  which  they  sup¬ 
ported,  marched  in  solemn  splendour  the  kings  and  princes 


123 


JERUSALEM  ANI)  ITS  ENVIRONS. 


of  Israel,  to  worship  God  in  His  temple.  Over  it,  too,  h  am' 
ble  and  despised,  often  passed  the  Son  of  God  himself,  to 
carry  a  message  of  heavenly  peace  to  a  rebel  world.  Upon 
its  shattered  arch  the  victorious  Titus  once  stood,  and 
pointing  to  the  burning  temple  behind  him,  made  a  final 
appeal  to  the  remnant  of  the  Jews  on  Zion  to  lay  down 
their  arms  and  save  themselves  from  slaughter  by  submis¬ 
sion  to  Rome.  How,  temple,  bridge,  and  palace  are  all 
gone.  Within  the  precincts  of  the  temple-court  no  Jew 
dare  set  his  foot ;  and  on  the  site  of  the  royal  palace  the 
wretched  dwellings  of  that  poor  despised  race  are  huddled 
together  in  misery  and  in  squalor. 

The  Place  of  'Wailing . — Entering  the  inhabited  part  of 
the  old  city,  and  winding  through  some  crooked  filthy 
lanes,  I  suddenly  found  myself,  on  turning  a  sharp  corner, 
in  a  spot  of  singular  interest; — the  “Jew’s  place  of  wail¬ 
ing.”  It  is  a  small  paved  quadrangle ;  on  one  side  are  the 
backs  of  low  modern  houses,  without  door  or  window ;  on 
the  other  is  the  lofty  wall  of  the  Haram,  of  recent  date 
above,  but  having  below  five  courses  of  bevelled  stones  in  a 
perfect  state  of  preservation.  Here  the  Jews  are  permitted 
to  approach  the  sacred  enclosure,  and  wail  over  the  fallen 
temple,  whose  very  dust  is  dear  to  them,  and  in  whose 
stones  they  still  take  pleasure  (Ps.  cii.  14).  It  was  Friday, 
and  a  crowd  of  miserable  devotees  had  assembled — men  and 
women  of  all  ages  and  all  nations,  dressed  in  the  quaint 
costumes  of  every  country  of  Europe  and  Asia.  Old  men 
were  there, — pale,  haggard,  careworn  men,  tottering  on 
pilgrim  staves;  and  little  girls  with  white  faces,  and  lus¬ 
trous  black  eyes,  gazing  wistfully  now  at  their  parents,  now 
at  the  old  wall.  Some  were  on  their  knees,  chanting 
mournfully  from  a  book  of  Hebrew  prayers,  swaying  their 
bodies  to  and  fro ;  some  were  prostrate  on  the  ground, 
pressing  forehead  and  lips  to  the  earth ;  some  were  close  to 
the  wall,  burying  their  faces  in  the  rents  and  crannies  of 
the  old  stones;  some  were  kissing  them,  some  had  their 


129 


jew’s  place  of  wailing. 

arms  spread  out  as  if  they  would  clasp  them  to  their  bo¬ 
soms,  some  were  bathing  them  with  tears,  and  all  the  while 
sobbing  as  if  their  hearts  would  burst.  It  was  a  sad  and 
touching  spectacle.  Eighteen  centuries  of  exile  and  woe 
have  not  dulled  their  hearts’  affections,  or  deadened  their 
feelings  of  national  devotion.  Here  we  see  them  assembled 
from  the  ends  of  the  earth,  poor,  despised,  down-trodden 
outcasts, — amid  the  desolations  of  their  fatherland,  beside 
the  dishonoured  ruins  of  their  ancient  sanctuary, — chant¬ 
ing,  now  in  accents  of  deep  pathos,  and  now  of  wild  woe, 
the  prophetic  words  of  their  own  Psalmist, — “  0  God ,  the 
heathen  are  come  into  thine  inheritance  /  thy  holy  temple 
have  they  defiled.  ....  We  are  become  a  reproach  to  our 
neighbours ,  a  scorn  and  derision  to  them  that  are  round 
about  us.  How  long ,  Lord?  Wilt  thou  be  angry  for 
ever?”  (Ps.  lxxix.  1,  4,  5). 

“  Oh,  weep  for  those  that  wept  by  Babel’s  stream, 

Whose  shrines  are  desolate,  whose  land  a  dream  ; 

Weep  for  the  harp  of  Judah’s  broken  shell ; 

Mourn — where  their  God  hath  dwelt,  the  godless  dwell !  ” 

The  Temple  and  its  Court. — After  two  or  three  attempts 
to  get  a  peep  at  the  sacred  enclosure  through  the  open 
gateways,  where  we  met  with  a  somewhat  rude  reception 
from  the  guardian  dervishes,  we  passed  on  to  the  Serai, 
or  Pasha’s  palace,  at  the  north-west  corner.  My  compan¬ 
ion  had  the  entree,  and  we  were  soon  on  the  terraced  roof 
which  commands  the  whole  Haram.  From  this  point  the 
various  buildings  are  seen  to  great  advantage.  I  was 
struck  with  the  chasteness  of  design,  and  wonderful  minute¬ 
ness  and  delicacy  of  detail,  in  the  Saracenic  architecture. 
The  central  mosque  is  a  perfect  gem.  The  encaustic  tiles 
which  cover  the  whole  exterior,  reflect  in  gorgeous  hues  the 
oright  sunlight.  Over  the  windows  and  round  the  cornice 
are  borders  of  beautifully  interlaced  Arabic  characters,  so 
large  that  one  can  easily  read  them.  The  graceful  dome 
and  its  golden  crescent  crown  the  whole.  The  position  of 


130 


JERUSALEM  AND  ITS  ENVIRONS. 


the  building  on  its  marble  platform,  raised  high  above  the 
surrounding  area,  adds  vastly  to  its  appearance.  It  is 
octagonal  in  form,  and  about  one  hundred  and  sixty  feet  in 
diameter.  The  roof  and  dome  are  supported  by  three  con¬ 
centric  circles  of  marble  columns  of  the  Corinthian  order. 
Beneath  the  dome  is  the  remarkable  rock , — the  sanctum  of 
the  whole  Haram, — which  gives  to  the  building  its  name, 
JKubbet  es-Sukhrah ,  “  The  Dome  of  the  Rock.”  It  is  the 
top  of  the  hill, — the  crown  of  Mount  Moriah,  rough  and  ir¬ 
regular  in  form,  and  rising  live  or  six  feet  above  the  marble 
floor.  Beneath  it  is  a  small  excavated  chamber,  called  the 
“Noble  Cave.”  The  Jews  regard  this  rock  as  the  holiest 
spot  on  earth.  Here,  they  tell  us,  Abraham  offered  his 
sacrifice ;  here  was  the  threshing-floor  of  Oman  which 
David  bought,  and  on  which  Solomon  built  the  Temple 
(2  Sam.  xxiv. ;  1  Chron.  xxi. ;  1  Kings  vi. ;  2  Chron.  iii.) 
We  learn  from  the  Talmud  that  the  great  altar  of  burnt- 
offering  was  erected  on  it,  and  that  the  cave  beneath  was 
excavated  as  a  cesspool  to  drain  off  the  blood.  Thus  the 
exact  site  of  Solomon’s  Temple  is  identified ;  and  thus,  too, 
we  see  that  the  golden  crescent — the  symbol  of  the  false 
prophet — is  now  raised  on  high,  as  if  in  scorn  and  derision, 
over  the  very  spot  where  the  Shekinah  glory  appeared  of 
old.  Ezekiel’s  prophecy  is  fulfilled,  “I  will  bring  the  worst 

of  the  heathen ,  and  they  shall  possess  their  houses . 

And  their  holy  places  shall  be  defiled  ”  (vii.  24). 

The  poor  Jew  may  now  truly  exclaim,  as  he  looks  down 
from  his  squalid  dwelling  on  the  brow  of  Zion : — 

“  Our  temple  hath  not  left  one  stone, 

And  mockery  sits  on  Salem’s  throne.” 

The  whole  Haram  area  is  artificial.  Part  of  it  round 
the  great  mosque  has  been  cut  down,  while  the  outer  por¬ 
tions  are  raised,  and  the  southern  section  is  supported  on 
massive  piers  and  arches.  The  subterranean  chambers 
thus  formed  are  chiefly  used  as  cisterns  for  storing  water. 


VIA  DOLOROSA. 


131 


In  former  times  they  were  supplied  by  an  aqueduct  from 
Solomon’s  Pools. 

The  other  buildings  in  the  Haram  have  comparatively 
little  interest.  On  the  right,  adjoining  the  city,  are  ranges 
of  Dervish  colleges,  with  cloisters  opening  on  the  grassy 
area.  Away  on  the  south-west  is  El-Aksa,  with  its  pointed 
roof  and  Gothic  fa9ade.  To  the  left  of  the  great  mosque, 
and  only  a  few  paces  distant,  is  a  beautiful  cupola,  support¬ 
ed  on  slender  marble  columns ;  it  was  built  by  the  Calif 
Abd  el-Melek,  some  say  as  a  model  for  the  Dome  of  the 
Rock. 

Via  Dolorosa. — A  narrow  lane  which  runs  in  a  zig-zag 
line  from  the  door  of  the  Serai  to  the  Church  of  the  Se¬ 
pulchre  has  been  dignified  by  the  name  Via  Dolorosa ,  be¬ 
cause  along  it,  says  tradition,  our  Lord  passed  from  the 
Judgment  Hall  to  Calvary.  I  shall  neither  insult  the  un¬ 
derstandings  of  my  readers,  nor  shock  their  feelings  by  any 
description  of  the  Seven  /Stations ,  which  monkish  impost¬ 
ure  has  located  here.  We  passed  along  the  street,  making 
various  excursions  to  the  right  and  left  in  order  to  get  a 
fuller  view  of  the  city,  and  to  visit  objects  of  interest.  We 
looked  into  the  Pool  of  Bethesda,  so  called, — but  which 
seems  to  be  a  portion  of  the  great  fosse  which  protected 
the  fortress  of  Antonia  on  the  north ;  and  we  visited  the 
Church  of  St.  Anne,  not  far  distant, — a  chaste  building  of 
the  Crusading  age,  recently  given  by  the  Sultan  to  the 
French  Emperor.  “Most  of  the  city  is  very  solitary  and 
silent ;  echo  answers  to  your  tread ;  frequent  waste  places, 
among  which  the  wild  dog  prowls,  convey  an  indescribable 
mpression  of  desolation;  and  it  is  not  only  these  waste 
places  that  give  such  an  air  of  loneliness  to  the  city,  but 
many  of  the  streets  themselves,  dark,  dull,  and  mournful 
looking,  seem  as  if  the  Templars’  armed  tread  were  the 
last  to  which  they  had  resounded.”  Another  thing  strikes 
the  thoughtful  traveller, — the  remains  of  the  ancient  city 
that  meet  the  eye  are  singularly  few;  here  and  there,  a 


132 


JERUSALEM  AND  ITS  ENVIRONS. 


column  in  the  wall,  or  a  marble  slab  on  the  footway,  or  a 
fragment  of  bevelled  masonry,  or  a  Gothic  arch  projecting 
from  a  rubbish  heap, — these  are  all  that  whisper  memories 
of  the  distant  past  The  Jerusalem  of  Solomon,  and  the 
Jerusalem  of  Herod,  and  even  a  great  part  of  the  Jerusalem 
of  the  Crusades,  lie  deeply  buried  beneath  the  modern  lanes 
and  houses. 

THE  CHURCH  OF  THE  HOLT  SEPULCHRE 

Has  been  for  fifteen  hundred  years  the  chief  point  of  at¬ 
traction  to  Christian  pilgrims.  Its  history  may  be  told  in  a 
sentence  or  two.  Founded  by  the  Emperor  Constantine,  it 
was  dedicated  in  a.d.  335 — Eusebius,  the  father  of  ecclesi¬ 
astical  history,  taking  part  in  the  consecration  service.  It 
was  destroyed  by  the  Persians  in  614,  and  rebuilt  sixteen 
years  afterwards  on  a  new  plan.  It  was  again  destroyed 
by  the  mad  Calif  Hakim,  the  founder  of  the  Druse  sect, 
and  rebuilt  in  1048.  During  the  Crusades  many  changes 
and  additions  were  made.  The  Rotunda,  the  Greek  Church 
on  its  eastern  side,  the  western  fa9ade,  including  the  pres¬ 
ent  door  and  tower,  and  the  chapel  over  Calvary,  were  then 
erected  in  whole  or  in  part.  The  buildings  remained  as  the 
Crusaders  left  them  till  the  year  1808,  when  they  were 
partly  destroyed  by  fire.  They  were  restored,  and  the 
church,  as  it  now  stands,  was  consecrated  in  1810. 

Turning  from  the  Via  Dolorosa  into  a  narrow  lane,  we 
soon  reach  an  open  court,  its  pavement  worn  by  the  feet  of 
innumerable  pilgrims,  and  usually  littered  with  the  wares  of 
trinket  merchants,  dealers  in  beads,  crosses,  “holy”  soap, 
and  “blessed”  candles,  which  are  eagerly  bought  up  by 
strangers.  On  the  northern  side  of  the  court  stands  the 
church.  Its  southern  fa9ade,  the  only  one  now  uncovered, 
is  a  pointed  Romanesque  composition,  dark,  heavy,  and  yet 
picturesque.  It  has  a  wide  double  door,  with  detached 
shafts  supporting  richly  sculptured  architraves,  representing 
our  Lord’s  triumphant  entry  into  Jerusalem.  Over  the 


CHURCH  OF  THE  SEPULCHRE. 


133 


door  are  two  corresponding  windows,  and  on  the  left  stands 
the  remnant  of  the  massive  Campanile,  once  a  noble  tower 
of  five  stories,  but  now  cut  down  to  three. 

On  entering,  it  was  with  shame  and  sorrow  I  observed  a 
guard  of  soldiers — Mohammedan  soldiers — stationed  in  the 
vestibule,  to  keep  rival  Christian  sects  from  quarreling  over 
the  tomb  of  their  Saviour.  The  principal  part  of  the  build¬ 
ing  is  the  Rotunda ,  which  has  a  dome  open  at  the  top,  like 
the  Pantheon.  Beneath  the  dome  stands  the  Holy  Sepul¬ 
chre,  a  little  structure,  like  a  church  in  miniature,  encased 
in  white  stone  profusely  ornamented,  and  surmounted  by  a 
crown-shaped  cupola.  It  contains  two  small  chambers — the 
first  called  the  “  Chapel  of  the  Angel,”  and  said  to  be  the 
place  where  the  angel  sat  after  he  had  rolled  away  the 
stone  from  the  door  of  the  sepulchre.  The  stone  itself  is 
there  too !  Through  this  we  pass,  and  enter  the  Sepulchre  by 
a  very  low  door.  It  is  a  vault,  measuring  six  feet  by  seven. 
The  tomb — a  raised  couch  -covered  with  a  slab  of  white 
marble — occupies  the  whole  of  the  right  side.  Over  it  hang 
forty  lamps  of  gold  and  silver,  kept  constantly  burning.  I 
lingered  long  here — solemnized,  almost  awe-stricken — look¬ 
ing  at  pilgrim  after  pilgrim,  in  endless  succession,  crawling 
in  on  bended  knees,  putting  lips  and  forehead  and  cheeks  to 
the  cold  marble,  bathing  it  with  tears,  then  dragging  him¬ 
self  away  backwards,  still  in  the  attitude  of  devotion,  until 
the  threshold  is  again  crossed.  The  vault  is  said  to  be 
hewn  out  of  the  rock,  but  not  a  vestige  of  rock  is  now 
visible;  the  floor,  tomb,  walls,  are  all  marble.  The  rock 
may  be  there ;  but  if  so,  how  one  should  wish 

“  The  lichen  now  were  free  to  twine 
O’er  the  dark  entrance  of  that  rock-hewn  cell. 

Say,  should  we  miss  the  gold-encrusted  shrine  . 

Or  incense-fume’s  intoxicating  spell  ?” 

The  Rotunda  and  Sepulchre  are  common  property.  All 
sects  —  Latin,  Greek,  Armenian,  Coptic,  Jacobite  —  have 
free  access  to  them,  but  each  has  its  own  establishment 


184 


JERUSALEM  AND  ITS  ENVIRONS. 


elsewhere.  Round  the  Holy  Sepulchre  are  numerous  other 
“  holy  places,”  no  less  than  thirty-two  being  clustered  under 
one  roof !  Golgotha,  the  Stone  of  Unction,  the  Place  of 
Apparition,  the  Chapel  of  Mocking,  the  Chapel  of  the  In¬ 
vention  of  the  Cross - But  why  go  over  such  a  catalogue  ? 

I  would  not  willingly  mingle  one  light  feeling  or  one  light 
expression  with  the  solemn  events  of  the  Crucifixion.  Yet 
it  is  difficult  to  speak  of  these  “  holy  places  ”  gravely.  It  is 
difficult  to  forget  how  seriously  such  superstitions  and  tra¬ 
ditions  hinder  the  success  of  missionary  enterprise,  and  how 
often  they  make  Christianity  a  mockery  in  the  land  which 
gave  it  birth. 

On  another  occasion,  I  was  in  the  Church  of  the  Sepul¬ 
chre  at  Easter,  when  crowded  with  pilgrims  from  all  lands, 
of  all  sects.  It  was  a  strange  and  impressive,  but  painful 
scene.  In  that  vast  crowd,  with  the  exception  of  a  few 
solitary  cases,  I  saw  nothing  like  devotion ;  and  in  these 
few  cases  devotional  feeling  had  manifestly  degenerated  into 
superstition.  Place  was  the  object  of  Avorship,  and  not 
God.  The  bitter  animosities  of  rival  sects  came  out  on  all 
sides,  among  the  clergy  as  well  as  their  flocks;  and  it  Avas 
only  the  presence  of  the  Turkish  guard  that  prevented  open 
Avar.  I  was  then  glad  to  think  that  the  real  place  of  our 
Lord’s  Passion  Avas  not  dishonoured.  True,  Christianity  is 
a  spiritual  faith;  it  recognizes  no  “holy  places.”  Yet  one’s 
natural  feelings  revolt  at  the  bare  idea  of  Calvary  becoming 
the  scene  and  the  cause  of  superstition  and  strife. 

But  some  of  my  readers  will  doubtless  ask,  “  Does  not  the 
Church  of  the  Sepulchre  cover  the  real  tomb  of  our  Lord  ?” 
The  question  involves  a  long  and  tangled  controversy,  on 
which  I  care  not  to  enter.  I  may,  howeA^er,  ghre  my  oaviT 
first  impressions  on  the  subject — impressions  Avdiich  thought 
and  study  have  since  deepened  into  conviction.  Before 
visiting  Jerusalem,  I  kneAv  from  Scripture  that  Christ  was 
crucified  “Avithout  the  gate”  (Heb.  xiii.  12),  at  a  place 
called  Golgotha  (Matt,  xxvii.  33),  apparently  beside  a 


SITE  OF  CALVARY  UNKNOWN. 


135 


public  road  (v.  39).  I  also  knew  that  the  “sepulchre”  was 
“hewn  out  of  a  rock”  (Mark  xv.  46),  in  a  garden  near  Gol¬ 
gotha  (John  xix.  41,  42).  On  visiting  Jerusalem,  I  was  not 
a  little  surprised  to  observe  the  dome  of  the  Church  of  the 
Sepulchre  far  within  the  walls — in  fact,  nearly  in  the  cen¬ 
tre  of  the  city.  Yet  the  city  in  our  Lord’s  day  must  have 
been  four  or  five  times  larger  than  it  is  now.  It  seemed  to 
me  that  topography  alone  makes  identity  all  but  impossi¬ 
ble.  But  whatever  may  be  thought  of  traditional  “holy 
places,”  Zion  and  Moriah,  Hinnom,  Olivet,  and  the  Kidron 
are  there.  What  though  the  royal  palace  has  become 
“  heaps,”  and  the  temple  has  “  not  one  stone  left  upon  an¬ 
other  !”  What  though  the  “  Holy  City  ”  is  “  trodden  down 
of  the  Gentiles,”  and  mockery  is  enshrined  in  its  sanctuary ! 
The  glens  which  echoed  back  the  monarch  minstrel’s  song, 
the  sacred  court  within  whose  colossal  walls  Israel  assem¬ 
bled  to  worship  a  present  God,  the  hills  over  which  Jesus 
walked,  and  on  whose  sides  He  taught  and  prayed,  the 
vines,  the  figs,  the  olives  which  suggested  His  beautiful 
parables, — all  are  there ;  and  no  controversies  or  scandals 
can  ever  change  their  features,  or  rob  us  of  the  hallowed 
memories  they  recall  and  the  illustrations  of  divine  truth 
they  afford. 


II. 

Cirmtrs  of  t\n  fW])  €iig. 

“  But  we  must  wander  witheringly 
In  other  lands  to  die  ; 

And  where  our  fathers’  ashes  be, 

Our  own  may  never  lie.” 

O  may  the  poor  Jew  no  w  sadly  sing  as  he  wan¬ 
ders,  a  despised  and  persecuted  outcast,  among 
the  desolations  of  the  once  proud  capital  of  his 
ancestors.  Wherever  he  turns  his  eyes  —  on 
Zion,  Moriah,  Olivet — he  is  reminded  by  rock-hewn  monu¬ 
ment  and  yawning  cave,  that  Jerusalem  is  not  only  his  holy 
city,  but  that  the  ashes  of  his  ancestors  are  there ;  that  it  is, 
as  the  captive  said  in  Babylon,  “  the  place  of  my  fathers’ 
sepulchres”  (Neh.  ii.  3).  The  tombs  are  among  the  most 
interesting  monuments  of  Jerusalem.  The  temple  “hath 
not  left  one  stone the  palaces  of  Solomon  and  Herod  have 
long  since  crumbled  to  dust ;  the  Jerusalem  of  the  prophets 
and  apostles  “became  heaps”  (Jer.  ix.  11)  centuries  ago, 
but  the  tombs  remain  almost  as  perfect  as  when  the  princes 
of  Israel  were  there  laid  “in  glory,  every  one  in  his  own 
house”  (Isa.  xiv.  18).  I  was  sadly  disappointed  when,  after 
days  and  weeks  of  careful  and  toilsome  research,  I  could 
only  discover  a  very  few  authentic  vestiges  of  “  the  city  of 
the  Great  King;”  —  a  few  fragments  of  the  colossal  wall 
that  enclosed  the  temple  courts ;  a  few  broken  shafts  here 
and  there  in  the  lanes,  or  protruding  from  some  noisome 
rubbish  heap ;  a  few  remnants  of  the  fortifications  that  once 


JERUSALEM  UNDERGROUND. 


137 


defended  Zion.  All  besides  is  gone ;  buried  deep,  deep  be¬ 
neath  modern  dwellings. 

When  excavating  for  the  foundation  of  the  English 
Church,  portions  of  the  old  houses  and  aqueducts  of  Zion 
were  found  nearly  forty  feet  below  the  present  surface ! 
We  need  not  wonder  that  the  identification  of  the  particu¬ 
lar  buildings  of  primitive  ages  is  now  so  difficult ;  and  that 
even  the  position  of  the  valleys  which  once  divided  the 
quarters  of  the  city,  has  come  to  be  subject  of  keen  contro¬ 
versy  among  antiquarians.  The  city  of  Herod  was  built 
on  the  ruins  of  the  city  of  Solomon ;  the  city  of  the  Cru¬ 
saders  was  built  on  the  ruins  of  that  of  Herod ;  and  modern 
Jerusalem  is  founded  on  the  ruins  of  them  all.  Hills  and 
cliffs  have  been  rounded  off ;  ravines  have  been  filled  up ; 
palaces  and  fortresses  have  been  overthrown,  and  their 
very  ruins  have  been  covered  over  with  the  rubbish  of  mil-  - 
lenniums.  Could  David  revisit  his  royal  capital,  or  could 
Herod  come  back  to  the  scene  of  his  magnificence  and  his 
crimes,  or  could  Godfrey  rise  from  his  tomb,  so  complete 
has  been  the  desolation,  so  great  the  change  even  in  the 
features  of  the  site,  that  I  believe  they  would  find  as  much 
difficulty  in  settling  topographical  details  as  modern  schol¬ 
ars  do. 

Nothing  but  excavation  can  settle  satisfactorily  and  fin¬ 
ally  the  vexed  questions  of  Jerusalem’s  topography.  A 
week’s  work  in  trenches  would  do  more  to  solve  existing 
mysteries  than  scores  of  volumes  and  years  of  learned  re¬ 
search.  It  may  well  excite  the  wonder  of  Biblical  scholars, 
that  while  the  mounds  of  Assyria,  and  Babylonia,  and 
Chaldea,  have  been  excavated  at  enormous  cost,  not  a 
shilling  has  been  expended  upon  the  Holy  City.  By  ju¬ 
dicious  excavation,  under  the  direction  of  an  accomplished 
antiquarian,  the  lines  of  the  ancient  walls,  the  sites  of  the 
great  buildings,  the  sepulchres  of  the  kings,  and  the  beds 
of  the  valleys,  might  all  be  traced.  A  flood  of  light  would 
thus  be  shed  upon  one  of  the  most  interesting  departments 


J  33 


JERUSALEM  AND  ITS  ENVIRONS. 


of  Biblical  topography;  and  who  can  tell  what  precious 
treasures  of  ancient  art  might  be  discovered  ?  Will  no  man 
of  influence  and  wealth  in  our  country  undertake  this  work  ? 
Will  no  learned  society  contribute  of  its  funds  to  carry  it 
out?  Will  not  our  beloved  Prince,  who  has  already  ren¬ 
dered  such  signal  service  at  Hebron,  render  a  still  greater 
service  to  Biblical  knowledge,  by  encouraging  such  an  en¬ 
terprise  ? 

It  is  pleasant  to  think  that  amid  ruin  and  confusion  there 
are  still  some  monuments  left  in  and  around  the  Holy  City, 
as  connecting  links  between  the  present  and  the  distant 
past.  The  sepulchres  of  the  Jewish  nobles  remain  though 
their  palaces  are  gone.  We  can  see  where  they  were  bur¬ 
ied,  if  we  cannot  see  where  they  lived.  I  could  not  de¬ 
scribe  with  what  intense  emotion  I  heard  my  friends  speak 
familiarly  of  the  tombs  of  David  and  Absalom,  of  the 
Judges,  the  kings,  and  the  prophets;  and  what  was  the  ex¬ 
cited  state  of  my  feelings  when  they  proposed  one  bright 
morning  a  walk  to  Tophet  and  Aceldama.  Some  of  these 
names  may  be,  and  doubtless  are,  apocryphal ;  none  of  them 
may  be  able  to  stand  the  test  of  full  historic  investigation ; 
but  the  high  antiquity  of  the  monuments  themselves  can¬ 
not  be  denied ;  and  an  inspection  of  them  is  alike  interest¬ 
ing  and  instructive,  from  the  light  they  throw  upon  the 
customs  of  God’s  ancient  people,  and  from  the  illustrations 
they  afford  of  many  passages  in  God’s  Word. 

JEWISH  TOMBS. 

The  earliest  burial-places  on  record  were  caves.  When 
Sarah  died,  Abraham  bought  the  cave  of  Machpelah,  and 
buried  her  there.  Samuel  is  said  to  have  been  buried  “in 
his  house  at  Hamah”  (1  Sam.  xxv.  1) ;  by  which,  I  believe, 
is  meant  the  tomb  he  had  excavated  for  himself  there,  for 
the  Hebrew  word  Beth ,  “  house,”  is  sometimes  used  to 
signify  tomb,  as  in  Isaiah  xiv.  1 8,  and  Eccles.  xii.  5,  “  Man 
goeth  to  his  long  home”  literally  “ to  his  eternal  house” 


FORM  AND  CHARACTER  OF  JEWISH  TOMBS. 


130 


We  read,  moreover,  of  King  Asa,  that  “they  buried  him  in 
his  own  sepulchre  which  he  had  digged  for  himself  in  the 
city  of  David”  (2  Chron.  xvi.  14).  Elisha  was  buried  in  a 
cave  (2  Kings  xiii.  21) ;  the  sepulchre  of  Lazarus  was  a  cave 
(John  xi.  38) ;  and  the  Holy  Sepulchre  was  a  new  cave 
which  Joseph  of  Arimathea  had  “hewn  out  in  the  rock” 
for  himself  (Matt,  xxvii.  60). 

In  our  own  land  we  are  all  familiar  with  the  grassy 
mounds  and  marble  monuments  which  fill  the  cemeteries, 
and  which  pass  away  almost  as  quickly  as  man  himself.  In 
Home  and  Pompeii  we  see  the  habitations  of  the  dead  lin¬ 
ing  the  great  highways,  and  crumbling  to  ruin  like  the 
palaces  of  their  tenants.  But  the  moment  we  set  our  feet 
on  the  shores  of  Palestine,  we  feel  that  we  are  in  an  ancient 
country — the  home  of  a  primeval  people,  whose  tombs  ap¬ 
pear  in  cliff  and  glen,  and  mountain-side,  all  hewn  in  the 
living  rock,  and  permanent  as  the  rock  itself.  The  tombs 
of  Jerusalem  are  rock-hewn  caves.  I  found  them  in  every 
direction.  Wherever  the  face  of  a  crag  affords  space  for 
an  architectural  fa9ade,  or  a  projecting  rock  a  fitting  place 
for  excavation,  there  is  sure  to  be  a  sepulchre.  I  visited 
them  on  Olivet  and  Scopus,  on  Zion  and  Moriah,  inside  the 
modern  city  and  outside ;  but  they  chiefly  abound  in  the 
rocky  banks  of  Hinnom  and  the  Kidron.  Near  the  junction 
of  these  ravines,  the  overhanging  cliffs  are  actually  honey¬ 
combed.  Hundreds  of  dark  openings  were  in  view  when  I 
stood  beside  En-Pogel.  Some  of  these  tombs  are  small 
grottoes,  with  only  one  or  two  receptacles  for  bodies ;  others 
are  of  great  extent,  containing  chambers,  galleries,  passages, 
and  loculi ,  almost  without  number,  each  tomb  forming  a 
little  necropolis.  The  doors  are  low  and  narrow,  so  as  to 
be  shut  by  a  single  slab.  This  slab  was  called  golal ,  that 
is,  “  a  thing  rolled,”  from  the  fact  that  it  was  rolled  back 
from  the  opening  in  a  groove  made  for  it.  The  stone  being 
heavy,  and  the  groove  generally  inclining  upwards,  the 
operation  of  opening  required  a  considerable  exertion  of 


140 


JERUSALEM  AND  ITS  ENVIRONS. 


strength.  Hence  the  anxious  inquiry  of  the  two  Marys, 
“  Who  shall  roll  us  away  the  stone  from  the  door  of  the 
sepulchre?”  (Mark  xvi.  3).  The  stone  always  fitted 
closely,  and  could  easily  be  sealed  with  one  of  those  large 
signets  such  as  were  then  in  use.  Or  perhaps  the  Holy 
Sepulchre  may  have  had  a  wedge,  or  small  bar,  pushed  into 
the  rock  behind  it,  like  that  at  the  tombs  of  the  kings  (de¬ 
scribed  below),  and  preventing  the  stone  from  being  rolled 
back.  To  this  the  seal  might  be  attached  (Matt,  xxvii. 
66).  I  had  always  to  stoop  low  on  entering  the  doors, 
which  reminded  me  of  Peter  at  the  sepulchre  (Luke  xxiv. 
12).  The  fa§ades  of  many  are  elaborately  ornamented; 
but  one  thing  is  very  remarkable,  they  contain  no  inscrip¬ 
tions.  The  tombs  of  Egypt  are  covered  with  hieroglyphics, 
giving  long  histories  of  the  dead,  and  of  the  honours  paid 
to  their  remains.  The  tombs  of  Palmyra  not  only  have 
written  tablets  over  the  entrances  ;  but  every  separate 
niche,  or  loculus  in  the  interior  has  its  inscription.  I  have 
counted  more  than  fifty  such  in  a  single  mausoleum ;  yet  I 
have  never  been  able  to  discover  a  single  letter  in  one  of 
the  tombs  of  the  Holy  City,  nor  a  single  painting,  sculpture, 
or  carving  on  any  ancient  Jewish  tomb  in  Palestine,  cal¬ 
culated  to  throw  light  on  the  story,  name,  or  rank  of  the 
dead. 

Simplicity  and  security  appear  to  have  been  the  only 
things  the  Jews  aimed  at  in  the  construction  of  their  se¬ 
pulchres.  To  be  buried  with  their  fathers  was  their  only 
ambition.  They  seem  to  have  had  no  desire  to  transmit 
their  names  to  posterity  through  the  agency  of  their  graves. 
It  has  been  well  said  that  the  words,  “Let  me  bury  my 
dead  out  of  my  sight,”  “No  man  knoweth  of  his  sepulchre 
unto  this  day” — express,  if  not  the  general  feeling  of  the 
Jewish  nation,  at  least  the  general  spirit  of  the  Old  Testa¬ 
ment.  With  the  Jews  the  tomb  was  an  unclean  place, 
which  men  endeavoured  to  avoid  rather  than  honour  by 
pilgrimages.  The  homage  paid  to  them  is  of  late  date,  and 


JEWISH  MODE  OF  BURIAL. 


141 


the  offspring  of  a  corrupt  age.  When  near  relatives  died 
it  was,  as  it  still  is,  customary  for  females  to  go  and  weep 
at  their  graves,  as  Martha  and  Mary  did  at  the  grave  of 
Lazarus ;  hut  the  dead  were  soon  forgotten,  and  except  in 
the  case  of  a  few  of  the  patriarchs,  kings  (Acts  vii.  16,  ii. 
29),  and  prophets  (Matt,  xxiii.  29)  we  have  no  record  of 
tombs  having  been  even  held  in  remembrance. 

There  were  always  a  few  in  every  age  who  coveted  out¬ 
ward  show  and  splendour  in  their  tombs,  as  well  as  in 
their  houses.  Such  was  the  upstart  Shebna,  whose  vanity 
and  pretension  the  prophet  Isaiah  describes  and  denounces : 
“  What  hast  thou  here,  and  whom  hast  thou  here,  that  thou 
hast  hewed  thee  out  a  sepulchre  here,  as  he  that  heweth 
him  out  a  sepulchre  on  high,  that  graveth  an  habitation 
for  himself  in  a  rock?”  (xxii.  16.)  It  is  evident  that  the 
greater  part  of  the  ornamented  fa9ades,  and  architectural 
tombs,  are  of  a  late  date,  and  not  purely  Jewish. 

JEWISH  MODE  OF  BURIAL. 

The  Jews  used  no  coffins  or  sarcophagi.  The  .body  was 
washed  (Acts  ix.  37),  anointed  (Mark  xvi.  1 ;  John  xix.  40), 
wrapped  in  linen  cloths  (John  xix.  40;  xi.  44),  and  laid  in 
the  niche  prepared  for  it — an  excavation  about  two  feet 
wide,  three  high,  and  six  deep,  opening  endwise  in  the  side 
of  the  rock-chamber,  as  is  represented  in  the  diagrams  given 
below.  The  mouth  of  the  loculus  was  then  shut  by  a  slab 
of  stone,  and  sealed  with  cement.  In  some  cases  the  bodies 
were  laid  on  a  kind  of  open  shelf,  such  as  I  have  seen  in 
many  of  the  chambers.  It  was  thus  our  Lord  was  laid,  for 
John  tells  us  that  Mary  “  stooped  down  into  the  sepulchre, 
and  seeth  two  angels,  the  one  at  the  head  and  the  other  at 
the  feet,  where  the  body  of  Jesus  had  lain”  (xx.  21). 

The  kings  of  Israel  were  buried  with  more  pomp.  In 
addition  to  the  anointing  of  the  sweet  spices,  “  burnings  ” 
were  made  for  them.  Thus  Jeremiah  says  to  Zedekiah: 
“  Thou  shalt  die  in  peace ;  and  with  the  burnings  of  thy 


142  JERUSALEM  AND  ITS  ENVIRONS. 

fathers ,  the  former  kings  which  were  before  thee,  so  shall 
they  burn  for  thee.”  And  in  the  case  of  Asa  we  are  told 
there  was  “a  great  burning ”  (2  Chron.  xvi.  14).  It  is  not 
meant  that  the  bodies  were  burned,  but  that  sweet  spices 
and  perfumes  were  burned  in  honour  of  them,  and  probably 
in  their  sepulchres.  The  bodies  of  Saul  and  Jonathan  are 
the  only  ones  which  we  read  of  as  having  been  burned  (l 
Sam.  xxxi.  11-13). 


THE  TOMB  OF  DAVID. 

On  the  southern  brow  of  Zion,  outside  the  modern  walls, 
there  is  a  little  group  of  buildings  distinguished  from  afar 
by  a  dome  and  lofty  minaret.  These,  according  to  an  old 
tradition,  believed  in  alike  by  Jews,  Christians,  and  Moham¬ 
medans,  cover  the  sepulchre  of  Israel’s  minstrel  king.  As 
matters  now  stand  the  truth  of  the  tradition  can  neither  be 
proved  nor  disproved.  The  Turks  esteem  the  spot  one  of 
their  very  holiest  shrines,  and  they  will  neither  examine  it 
themselves  nor  permit  others  to  do  so.  bTo  place  about 
Jerusalem,  not  even  the  Haram,  is  guarded  with  such  jeal¬ 
ousy.  I  visited  the  building  frequently:  I  walked  round 
and  through  it:  I  peeped  into  every  hole,  window,  and 
passage  accessible  to  me :  I  tried  soft  words  and  even  a 
liberal  bakhshish  with  the  gentlemanly  old  keeper  :  but  it 
was  all  in  vain ;  I  saw  no  more  than  my  predecessors  had 
done. 

The  principal  apartment  in  the  group  of  buildings  is  a 
Gothic  chamber,  evidently  a  Christian  church  of  the  cru¬ 
sading  age,  though  probably  built  on  an  older  site,  or  per¬ 
haps  reconstructed  out  of  an  earlier  model.  Tradition  has 
filled  it  with  “  holy  places,”  making  it  the  scene  of  the  Last 
Supper  (hence  its  name  Coenaculum ),  of  the  meeting  after 
the  Resurrection,  of  the  miracle  of  Pentecost,  of  the  resi¬ 
dence  and  death  of  the  Virgin,  and  of  the  burial  of  Stephen. 
At  its  eastern  end  is  a  little  chancel  where  Romish  priests 
sometimes  celebrate  mass ;  and  on  the  south  side  is  a  mih- 


TOMB  OF  DAVID. 


143 


rah  where  Moslems  pray.  It  is  thus  a  grand  centre  of  tra¬ 
dition,  superstition,  and  imposture. 

The  crypt  is  the  real  holy  place.  A  portion  of  it  has 
been  walled  off  and  consecrated  as  a  mosque-mausoleum. 
So  sacred  is  it,  that  none  have  the  entree ,  not  even  Mus- 
lem  santons  or  grandees  —  except  the  sheikh  who  keeps 
it,  and  the  members  of  his  family.  Filrer,  a  German  trav¬ 
eller  of  the  sixteenth  century,  tells  us  he  gained  access  to 
it,  and  he  probably  saw  the  interior.  In  1839  Sir  Moses 
Montefiore  was  permitted  to  approach  an  iron  railing  and 
look  into  the  chamber  which  contains  the  tomb ;  but  he 
could  not  enter.  The  Jew  is  shut  out  alike  from  the  Tem¬ 
ple  and  tombs  of  his  fathers. 

Miss  Barclay,  a  young  American  lady,  (daughter  of  the 
author  of  “  The  City  of  the  Great  King,”)  has  been  more 
fortunate.  She  gained  admission  to  the  mausoleum  with  a 
female  friend,  a  near  relative  of  the  keeper ;  she  spent  an 
hour  in  the  sanctuary,  took  a  sketch  of  the  interior,  and  has 
given  us  the  following  description  of  what  she  saw :  “  The 
room  is  insignificant  in  its  dimensions,  but  is  furnished  very 
gorgeously.  The  tomb  is  apparently  an  immense  sarcopha¬ 
gus  of  rough  stone,  and  is  covered  by  green  satin  tapestry, 
richly  embroidered  with  gold.  A  satin  canopy  of  red,  blue, 
green,  and  yellow  stripes  hangs  over  the  tomb ;  and  another 
piece  of  black  velvet  tapestry,  embroidered  in  silver,  covers 
a  door  in  one  end  of  the  room  which ,  they  said ,  leads  to  a 
cave  underneath.  Two  tall  silver  candlesticks  stand  before 
this  door,  and  a  little  lamp  hangs  in  a  window  near  it, 

which  is  kept  constantly  burning . The  ceiling  of  the 

room  is  vaulted,  and  the  walls  covered  with  blue  porcelain 
in  floral  figures.” 

Such  then  is  the  present  state  of  the  reputed  tomb  ot 
David.  It  is  well  known,  however,  that  the  Muslems  care¬ 
fully  shut  up  their  most  sacred  shrines,  and  construct  others 
either  directly  over  them  or  close  beside  them,  which  they 
visit  and  venerate  as  the  real  places.  So  it  is  at  the  tomb 
7 


144 


JERUSALEM  AND  ITS  ENVIRONS. 


of  Abraham  in  Hebron,  and  so,  doubtless,  it  is  here.  The 
real  sepulchre,  if  here  at  all,  is  in  a  vault  beneath,  and  the 
door  mentioned  by  Miss  Barclay  probably  leads  to  it.  No 
fact  in  the  Word  of  God  is  more  plainly  stated  than  this, 
that  David,  and  most  of  his  successors  on  the  throne  of 
Israel,  were  buried  in  the  “  city  of  David,”  that  is,  in  Zion 
(1  Kings  ii.  10;  xi.  43;  xv.  24,  &c.)  The  royal  sepulchres 
were  well  known  after  the  return  of  the  Jews  from  Baby¬ 
lon,  and  Nehemiah  incidentally  describes  their  position 
(iii.  15,  16).  Josephus  says  that  Solomon  buried  David 
with  great  pomp,  and  placed  immense  treasures  in  his  tomb. 
These  remained  undisturbed  until  Hyrcanus,  when  besieged 
by  Antiochus,  opened  one  room  and  took  out  three  thousand 
talents  to  buy  off  the  enemy.  Herod  the  Great  also  plun¬ 
dered  the  tomb ;  and  it  is  said  that  two  of  his  guards  were 
killed  by  a  flame  that  burst  upon  them  when  engaged  in 
the  sacrilegious  act.  We  have  a  still  later  testimony  to  the 
preservation  of  the  tomb  in  the  words  of  the  apostle  Peter 
regarding  David :  “  His  sepulchre  is  with  us  unto  this  day  ” 
(Acts  ii.  29).  We  hear  no  more  of  it  till  the  12th  century, 
when  Benjamin  of  Tudela  relates  the  following  strange 
story,  which  I  insert  as  perhaps  having  some  slight  founda¬ 
tion  in  fact : — 

“  On  Mount  Zion  are  the  sepulchres  of  the  house  of 
David.  In  consequence  of  the  following  circumstance,  this 
place  is  hardly  to  be  recognised.  Fifteen  years  ago  one  of 
the  walls  of  the  church  on  Zion  fell  down,  and  the  patriarch 
ordered  the  priest  to  repair  it,  and  to  take  the  stones  requi¬ 
site  from  the  old  wall  of  Zion . Two  labourers  when 

thus  employed,  found  a  stone  which  covered  the  mouth  of  a 
cave.  This  they  entered  in  search  of  treasures,  and  reached 
a  large  hall,  supported  by  pillars  of  marble,  encrusted  with 
gold  and  silver,  and  before  which  stood  a  table  with  a 
golden  sceptre  and  crown.  This  was  the  sepulchre  of 
David;  to  the  left  they  saw  that  of  Solomon  in  a’  similar 
state ;  and  so  on  the  sepulchres  of  the  other  kings  buried 


TOPHET. 


145 


there.  They  saw  chests  locked  up,  and  were  on  the  point 
of  entering  when  a  blast  of  wind  rushing  out  threw  them 
lifeless  on  the  ground.  They  lay  there  senseless  until  even¬ 
ing,  and  then  they  heard  a  voice  commanding  them  to  go 
forth  from  the  place.  The  patriarch  on  hearing  the  story 
ordered  the  tomb  to  be  walled  up.”  The  royal  sepulchres 
were  doubtless  hewn  in  the  rock,  like  all  those  of  great  men 
in  that  age;  and  they  must  still  exist.  Excavation,  or  at 
least  a  full  exploration  of  the  place,  will  alone  solve  the 
mystery.  Of  one  thing  we  may  be  assured,  that  the  se¬ 
pulchre  of  David  cannot  have  been  far  distant  from  the 
building  now  said  to  stand  over  it. 

TOPHET. 

On  one  occasion,  after  a  long  visit  to  Zion,  I  walked 
down  through  the  terraced  corn-fields  on  its  southern  de¬ 
clivity  into  the  deep  glen  of  Hinnom.  The  sun  was  low  in 
the  west,  and  the  ravine,  with  its  rugged  cliffs,  and  dusky 
olive  groves,  was  thrown  into  deep  shadow.  Not  a  human 
being  was  there,  and  no  sound  from  the  city  broke  in  upon 
the  silence.  The  high  rocks  along  the  whole  southern  bank 
are  honey-combed  with  tombs,  whose  dark  mouths  made 
the  place  look  still  more  gloomy.  Already  the  jackals  had 
left  their  lairs,  and  numbers  of  them  ran  out  and  in  of  the 
sepulchres,  and  prowling  among  the  rocks  and  through  the 
olive  trees.  As  I  wandered  on  down  Hinnom  towards  the 
Kidron  I  observed  that  the  tombs  became  more  and  more 
numerous,  until  at  length,  at  the  junction  of  the  valleys, 
every  available  spot  in  the  surrounding  cliffs  and  rocks  was 
excavated.  They  are  mostly  plain  chambers,  or  groups  of 
chambers  opening  into  each  other,  hewn  in  the  soft  lime¬ 
stone,  without  any  attempt  at  ornament,  save,  here  and 
there,  a  moulding  round  the  door.  I  observed  a  few  He¬ 
brew  and  Greek  inscriptions,  but  of  late  date — certainly  not 
older  than  the  ninth  or  tenth  century. 

Here,  in  the  mouth  of  Hinnom,  was  situated  the  Tophet 


116 


JERUSALEM  AND  ITS  ENVIRONS. 


of  the  Bible,  —  originally,  perhaps,  a  “music  Dower,”  oi 
“pleasure  garden”  of  Solomon’s;  but  afterwards  desecrated 
by  lust,  and  defiled  by  the  offerings  of  Baal  and  the  fires 
of 

“  Moloch,  horrid  king,  besmeared  with  blood 
Of  human  sacrifice  and  parents’  tears.” 

It  finally  became  so  notorious  for  its  abominations  that 
it  was  regarded  as  the  “  very  type  of  hell and  the  name 
of  the  valley,  Ge-Hinnom,  in  Greek  Gehenna ,  was  given  by 
the  Jews  to  the  infernal  regions.  Jeremiah  gives  some 
terrible  sketches  of  the  fearful  atrocities  perpetrated  in  this 
spot  in  the  name  of  religion  (vii.  31) ;  and  he  depicts  the 
judgments  which  the  Lord  pronounced  on  the  city  and 
people  on  account  of  them  (xix.  6-15).  Standing  on  the 
brink  of  the  valley  I  saw  how  literally  one  part  of  the 
curse  had  been  fulfilled : — “  Wherefore  the  days  come  when 
it  shall  no  more  be  called  Tophet,  nor  the  valley  of  Ben- 
Hinnom,  but  the  valley  of  Slaughter ;  for  they  shall  bury 
in  Tophet  till  there  be  no  place ”  (vii.  32).  And  as  I  re¬ 
turned  that  evening  up  the  Kidron  to  my  home  on  Olivet, 
I  saw  what  seemed  to  me  another  terrible  illustration  of  the 
outpouring  of  the  curse.  I  saw  hyenas,  jackals,  and  vultures 
tearing  the  corpses  from  the  shallow  graves  in  the  modern 
Jewish  cemetery.  With  what  harrowing  vividness  did  the 
prophet’s  dire  prediction  then  flash  upon  my  mind : — “ Their 
s  carcases  will  I  give  to  be  meat  for  the  fowls  of  heaven , 
and  for  the  beasts  of  the  earth.  And  I  will  make  this  city 
desolate,  and  an  hissing ;  every  one  that  passeth  thereby 
shall  be  astonished  and  hiss,  because  of  all  the  plagues 
•  thereof”  (xix.  7,  8). 

ACELDAMA. 

On  another  occasion  I  went  to  the  necropolis  of  Tophet 
with  a  double  purpose,— to  explore  the  rock  tombs  more 
thoroughly,  and  to  see  the  painting  of  the  Yalley  of  Je- 
hoshaphat,  which  the  lamented  Mr.  Seddon  was  just  then 
comjfleting.  He  had  pitched  his  little  tent  at  the  door  of 


ACELDAMA. 


147 


an  old  sepulchre  on  the  brow  of  the  hill;  and  as  we  ap¬ 
proached  an  armed  goat-herd  was  before  him,  whom  he 
was  working  into  the  foreground.  I  was  equally  delighted 
and  surprised  at  the  boldness  of  design,  the  faithfulness  of 
colouring,  and  the  scrupulous  accuracy  of  detail  in  that 
admirable  picture.  He  kindly  left  his  work,  and  walked 
away  with  us  to  Aceldama.  Another  artist  was  of  our 
party,  whose  brilliant  genius  was  then  reproducing,  with 
all  the  vividness  and  faithfulness  of  reality,  the  scene  of 
The  Finding  of  Christ  in  the  Temple.  That  day  will 
ever  remain  as  one  of  the  sunny  spots  on  memory’s  clouded 
landscape. 

Tomb  after  tomb  we  passed  and  explored,  lighting  up 
their  gloomy  chambers  and  narrow  loculi  with  our  torches, 
and  wondering  at  the  endless  variety  and  numbers  of  these 
homes  of  the  forgotten  dead.  At  length  we  reached  a  nar¬ 
row  ledge  or  terrace,  on  the  steep  bank,  directly  facing  the 
pool  of  Siloain.  Here  was  a  large  square  edifice,  half  ex¬ 
cavated  in  the  living  rock,  half  built  of  massive  masonry. 
Looking  in  through  a  rent  in  the  wall,  we  found  that  it 
was  a  vast  charnel  house,  some  twenty  feet  deep,  the  bottom 
covered  with  dust  and  mouldering  bones.  This  is  Acel¬ 
dama,  “  the  field  of  blood bought  with  the  “  thirty  pieces 
of  silver,  the  price  of  Him  that  was  valued,  whom  they  of 
the  children  of  Israel  did  value”  (Matt,  xxvii.  9).  The 
tradition  which  identifies  it  is  at  least  as  old  as  the  fourth 
century ;  and  it  is  a  remarkable  fact  that  the  peculiar  clay 
on  the  adjoining  terraces  would  seem  to  show  that  this 
had  once  been  a  “  potter’s  field — “  They  took  counsel,  and 
bought  with  them  the  potter's  field  to  bury  strangers  in” 
(ver.  7.) 

SILOAM. 

I  had  often  been  struck  with  the  quaint  and  picturesque 
appearance  of  the  little  hamlet  of  Silwan ,  whose  houses 
seem  to  cling  like  swallows’  nests  to  the  gray  cliffs  of  Oli- 


148 


JERUSALEM  AND  ITS  ENVIRONS. 


vet.  It  takes  its  name  from  the  fountain  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  Kidron,  at  the  base  of  Moriah;  and  it  alone 
brings  down  to  modem  times  the  sacred  name  of  “the 
waters  of  Siloah  that  flow  softly”  (Isa.  viii.  6),  and  of  that 
“  pool  of  Siloam  ”  in  which  our  Lord  commanded  the  blind 
man  to  wash  (John  ix.  7).  Its  inhabitants  have  a  bad 
name,  and  are  known  to  be  lawless,  fanatical  vagabonds.  I 
resolved,  however,  to  explore  their  den,  and  I  succeeded, 
notwithstanding  repeated  volleys  of  threats  and  curses,  in¬ 
termixed  now  and  again  with  a  stone  or  two.  I  was  well 
repaid.  The  village  stands  on  a  necropolis ;  and  the  habi¬ 
tations  are  all  half  caves,  half  buildings, — a  single  room,  or 
rude  porch,  being  attached  to  the  front  of  a  rock  tomb.  It 
is  a  strange  wild  place.  On  every  side  I  heard  children’s 
prattle  issuing  from  the  gloomy  chambers  of  ancient  sepul¬ 
chres.  Looking  into  one  I  saw  an  infant  cradled  in  an  old 
sarcophagus.  The  larger  tombs,  where  the  ashes  of  Israel’s 
nobles  once  reposed,  were  now  tilled  with  sheep  and  goats, 
and  lambs  and  kids  gambolled  merrily  among  the  loculi . 
The  steep  hill-side  appears  to  have  been  hewn  into  irregular 
terraces,  and  along  these  the  sepulchres  were  excavated, 
one  above  another.  They  are  better  finished  than  those  of 
Tophet ;  and  a  few  of  them  are  Egyptian  in  style,  and  may, 
perhaps,  be  of  that  age  when  Egyptian  influence  was  strong 
at  the  court  of  Solomon  (1  Kings  vii.  8-12 ;  xi.  7  ;  2  Kings 
xxiii.  3;  2  Chron.  viii.  11.) 

Absalom’s  pillar. 

The  most  picturesque  group  of  sepulchral  monuments 
around  the  Holy  City  is  that  in  the  valley  of  the  Kidron, 
just  beneath  the  south-east  angle  of  the  Haram.  There 
are  four  tombs  here  in  a  range,  which,  from  their  position 
in  the  deep  narrow  glen,  and  from  the  style  of  their  archi¬ 
tecture,  cannot  fail  to  arrest  the  attention  of  every  visitor 
to  the  Holy  City.  I  walked  up  to  them  from  Siloam.  That 
was  a  sad  walk.  I  can  never  forget  the  horrid  sights  I  saw. 


Absalom’s  pillar. 


149 


The  whole  side  of  Olivet  is  covered  with  Jewish  graves. 
In  most  cases  the  bodies  have  only  a  few  inches  of  loose 
earth  thrown  over  them,  and  then  a  broad  stone  is  laid  on 
the  top.  All  round  me  were  revolting  evidences  of  the  car¬ 
nival  held  nightly  there  by  dogs,  jackals,  and  hyenas.  Vul¬ 
tures  were  enjoying  a  horrid  banquet  within  a  stone’s  throw 
of  me ;  and  gorged  with  food,  they  seemed  fearless  of  my 
approach.  Never  before  had  the  degradations  to  which  the 
poor  Jews  must  now  submit  been  brought  before  my  mind 
with  such  harrowing  vividness  : — 

“  Tribes  of  the  wandering  foot  and  weary  breast, 

How  shall  you  flee  away  and  be  at  rest  ? 

The  wild  dove  hath  her  nest,  the  fox  his  cave, 

Mankind  their  country, — Israel  but  the  grave  !” 

The  Tomb  or  Pillar  of  Absalom  is  a  cubical  structure, 
hewn  out  of  the  rock,  measuring  twenty-two  feet  on  each 
side,  and  ornamented  with  Ionic  pilasters.  It  is  surmounted 
by  a  circular  cone  of  masonry,  terminating  in  a  tuft  of  palm 
leaves.  In  the  interior  is  a  small  excavated  chamber,  with 
two  niches  for  bodies.  The  architecture  shows  at  once  that 
this  cannot  be  the  “  pillar  ”  which  Absalom  had  “  reared  up 
for  himself  during  his  lifetime  in  the  king’s  dale  ”  (2  Sam. 
xviii.  18)  ;  and  indeed,  his  name  was  only  attached  to  it 
about  the  twelfth  century.  It  resembles  some  of  the  tombs 
of  Petra ;  and  may,  perhaps,  be  the  work  of  one  of  the 
Herods,  who  were  of  Idumean  descent. 

A  few  yards  farther  south  is  another  monolithic  structure, 
somewhat  resembling  the  preceding,  and  now  usually  called 
the  Tomb  of  Zacharias — that  Zacharias  who  was  stoned 
in  the  court  of  the  Temple  in  the  reign  of  Joash  (2  Chron. 
xxiv.  21)  ;  and  to  whom  Christ  refers,  as  slain  between  the 
temple  and  the  altar  (Matt,  xxiii.  35).  But  there  is  no  evi¬ 
dence  to  connect  the  monument  with  this  or  any  other  Old 
Testament  wort  ly.  The  Jews  hold  it  in  high  veneration; 
and  the  dearest  wish  of  their  hearts  is  to  have  their  bones 


150 


JERUSALEM  AND  ITS  ENVIRONS. 


laid  beside  it.  The  whole  ground  around  its  base  is  crowded 
with  graves. 

Between  these  two  monuments  is  a  large  excavated  cham¬ 
ber  in  the  side  of  the  cliff,  having  a  Doric  porch  supported 
by  two  columns.  Within  it  are  several  spacious  vaults,  and 
numerous  loculi  for  bodies.  Here,  says  tradition,  the  Apos¬ 
tle  James  found  an  asylum  during  the  interval  between  the 
crucifixion  and  the  resurrection.  The  story  is,  of  course, 
apocryphal,  and  was  not  attached  to  the  tomb  till  about 
the  fourteenth  century.  The  view  of  the  Kidron  valley 
from  this  spot  is  singularly  impressive.  There  is  nothing 
like  it  in  Palestine,  or  elsewhere.  The  valley  is  deep,  rug¬ 
ged,  and  altogether  destitute  of  verdure.  On  one  side 
Moriah  rises  in  banks  of  naked  rock  and  bare  shelving  ac¬ 
clivities,  until  it  is  crowned,  far  overhead,  by  the  colossal 
wall  of  the  Haram ;  on  the  other  side  the  limestone  cliffs 
are  hewn  out  into  architectural  fa§ades,  and  stately  monu¬ 
ments,  and  yawning  sepulchres ;  while  away*  above  them, 
here  and  there,  a  patriarchal  olive,  with  sparse  branches 
and  great  gnarled  arms,  stands  forsaken  and  desolate,  like 
the  last  tree  of  a  forest. 

THE  TOMBS  OF  THE  PROPHETS. 

High  up  on  the  brow  of  Olivet,  between  the  footpath 
that  leads  to  the  Church  of  the  Ascension  and  the  main  road 
to  Bethany,  is  a  very  remarkable  catacomb,  of  the  most 
ancient  Jewish  type.  It  is  now  called  the  Tomb  of  the 
Prophets ,  though  there  is  no  inscription,  or  historical  me¬ 
morial,  or  even  ancient  tradition,  to  justify  the  name. 
Equipped  in  a  “  working  costume,”  and  furnished  with  a 
handful  of  little  candles,  we  started  early  one  morning  to 
explore  it.  Crawling  into  a  narrow  hole  in  an  open  field, 
and  then  down  a  long  gallery,  we  reached  a  circular  vault, 
twenty-four  feet  in  diameter ;  from  it  two  parallel  galleries, 
five  feet  wide  and  ten  feet  high,  are  carried  through  the 
rocks  for  some  twenty  yards  ;  a  third  runs  in  another  direc- 


THE  VIRGIN’S  TOMB. 


151 


tion ;  and  they  are  all  connected  by  cross  galleries,  the 
outer  one  of  which  is  fc~ty  yards  in  length,  and  has  a  range 


of  thirty  loculi  for  bodies.  The  accompanying  diagram 
will  show  the  intricate  plan  and  singular  structure  of  these 
interesting  catacombs  better  than  any  description. 

TOMB  OP  THE  VIRGIN. 

In  coming  forth  again  to  the  light  of  day,  which,  after 
the  darkness,  seemed  doubly  brilliant,  we  descended  the 
hill-side  and  paid  a  passing  visit  to  the  tomb  of  Mary.  It 
is  a  quaint,  but  singularly  picturesque  structure,  and  must 
excite  the  admiration  of  every  pilgrim  to  Gethsemane  and 
Olivet.  Grey  and  worn  with  age,  deeply  set  among  the 
rocky  roots  of  the  mount,  shaded  by  venerable  olive  trees, 
it  is  one  of  those  buildings  which  even  all  the  absurdity  of 
tradition  cannot  divest  of  interest.  On  entering  the  door 
we  had  a  long  descent  by  some  sixty  steps  to  the  chapel, 
a  gloomy,  rugged,  natural  cave,  partly  remodelled  by  hu¬ 
man  hands.  Here  tradition  has  placed  the  empty  tomb  of 
the  Virgin ;  and  here  Popery  has  fixed  the  scene'  of  the  As¬ 
sumption. 


152 


JERUSALEM  AND  ITS  ENVIRONS. 


We  walked  on  up  the  glen,  through  olive  groves  which 
seem  denser  and  more  ancient  than  anywhere  else  round 
the  city.  The  rocky  banks  on  both  sides,  but  especially  on 
that  next  Jerusalem,  are  filled  with  tombs;  and  I  felt 
strongly  impressed  that  some  one  of  these  was  that  “  new 
tomb”  which  Joseph  of  Arimathea  u  had  hewn  for  himself” 
in  his  garden,  in  which  Jesus  was  laid.  Continuing  our 
walk,  we  saw  traces  of  Agrippa’s  wall  on  the  brow  of  the 
glen.  Then,  after  crossing  the  Anathoth  road,  and  turning 
westward,  we  came  upon  more  sepulchres,  with  richly  orna¬ 
mented  doorways.  But  by  far  the  most  magnificent  sepul¬ 
chre  in  this  region,  and  indeed  around  Jerusalem,  is  the  so- 
called 

TOMB  OF  THE  KINGS. 

This  remarkable  catacomb  is  half  a  mile  from  the  city, 
not  far  from  the  great  northern  road.  On  reaching  the  spot 
we  find  a  broad  trench,  hewn  in  the  rock  to  the  depth  of 
eighteen  feet.  An  inclined  plane  leads  down  to  it.  Then 
we  pass,  by  a  very  low  doorway,  through  a  wall  of  rock 
seven  feet  thick,  into  a  court  ninety-two  feet  long,  eighty- 
seven  broad,  and  about  twenty  deep,  all  excavated  in  the 
living  rock.  The  sides  are  hewn  quite  smooth.  On  the 
western  side  is  a  vestibule,  originally  supported  by  two  col¬ 
umns.  The  front  has  a  deep  frieze  and  comice,  richly  or¬ 
namented  with  clusters  of  grapes,  triglyphs,  and  paterae, 
alternating  over  a  continuous  garland  of  fruit  and  foliage, 
which  was  carried  down  the  sides.  Unfortunately,  this 
beautiful  fi^ade  is  almost  obliterated.  When  perfect,  it 
must  have  been  magnificent. 

The  entrance  to  the  tomb  is  at  the  southern  end  of  the 
vestibule.  The  door,  with  its  approaches  and  fastenings,  is 
one  of  the  most  remarkable  and  ingenious  pieces  of  mech¬ 
anism  which  has  come  down  to  us  from  antiquity.  The 
whole  is  now  in  a  ruinous  state  ;  but  enough  remains  to 
show  what  it  once  was.  The  door  could  only  be  reached 


TOMBS  OF  THE  KINGS. 


153 


by  a  subterranean  passage,  the  entrance  to  which  was  a 
small  trap-door  in  the  floor  of  the  vestibule ;  and  when 
reached,  it  was  found  to  be  covered  by  a  circular  stone, 
like  a  small  millstone,  which  had  to  be  “  rolled  away  ”  to 
the  side,  up  an  inclined  plane.  In  addition  to  this  there 
was  another  large  stone,  which  could  be  slid  in  behind  the 
door,  at  right  angles,  along  a  concealed  groove,  and  which 
held  it  immovably  in  its  place.  And  there  was,  besides, 
an  inner  door  of  stone  opening  on  a  pivot,  and  shutting 
by  its  own  weight.  The  interior  arrangements  of  this  splen¬ 
did  monument  will  be  best  understood  by  the  accompa- 
nying  plan.  In  one  respect  it  differs  from  all  the  other 


sepulchres  yet  known  about  Jerusalem — the  inner  chamber, 
which  is  several  feet  lower  than  any  of  the  others,  formerly 
contained  two  sarcophagi  of  white  marble,  beautifully  orna¬ 
mented  with  wreaths  of  flowers.  The  most  perfect  of  them 
was  carried  away  by  the  well-known  French  savan,  M.  de 
Saulcy,  and  placed  in  the  museum  of  the  Louvre.  The 
other  is  in  fragments. 

Even  this  tomb  contains  no  record  of  its  history.  The 
memory  and  the  names  of  those  who  were  laid  here  in  royal 
state  cannot  now  be  ascertained  with  certainty.  There  is 
a  high  probability  that  it  was  the  sepulchre  of  Helena,  the 
widowed  queen  of  Adiabene.  It  is  known  that  she  became 


154 


JERUSALEM  AND  ITS  ENVIRONS. 


a  proselyte  to  Judaism,  resided  in  the  Holy  City  dming 
the  apostolic  age,  and  made  for  herself  a  great  sepulchre. 
Able  scholars  have  questioned  the  identity.  Be  this  as  it 
may,  we  have  here  a  costly,  grand,  and  strongly  guarded 
sepulchre,  now  opened,  wrecked,  and  rifled,  as  if  to  show 
that  man’s  home  is  not,  cannot  he,  on  earth. 

Other  celebrated  tombs  I  visited  and  explored.  The 
Tombs  of  the  Judges ,  a  mile  farther  north ;  the  Tomb  of 
El  Musahny ,  recently  discovered,  and  of  the  earliest  Jewish 
type;  the  Tomb  of  Helena,  &c.  I  need  not  describe  them. 
The  general  plan  of  all  is  the  same ;  and  all  are  equally 
without  story,  without  name,  and  without  tenant.  The 
hand  of  the  spoiler  has  not  even  spared  the  ashes  of  fallen, 
outcast  Israel.  The  time  foretold  by  Jeremiah  has  come: — 
“  At  that  time,  saith  the  Lord,  they  shall  bring  out  the  bones 
of  the  kings  of  Judah,  and  the  bones  of  his  princes,  and  the 
bones  of  the  priests,  and  the  bones  of  the  inhabitants  of 
Jerusalem,  out  of  their  graves  ;  and  they  shall  spread  them 
before  the  sun,  and  the  moon,  and  alt  the  host  of  heaven 
.  .  .  .  they  shall  not  be  gathered  nor  be  buried ;  they 
shall  be  for  dung  upon  the  face  of  the  earth”  (viii.  1,  2.) 


@Iibrf  ixnta 

<c  In  the  daytime  he  was  teaching  in  the  temple,  and  at  night  he  went  out  and  abode  ia 
the  mount  that  is  called  the  Mount  of  Olives.” — Luke  xxi  37. 

HE  name  Olivet  goes  direct  to  the  Christian’s 
heart,  and  awakens  the  deepest  and  holiest  feel¬ 
ings  there.  It  recalls  so  many  memories  of 
Jesus, — of  his  wondrous  power  and  still  more 
wondrous  love, — of  his  human  sympathies  and  his  divine, 
teachings, — of  the  greatness  of  his  agony  and  the  glories 
of  his  triumph,  —  that  the  heart  overflows  with  love  and 
gratitude  the  moment  the  name  falls  upon  the  ear.  With 
Gethsemane  on  one  side  and  Bethany  on  the  other ;  with 
paths,  well  marked,  connecting  them,  often  trodden  by  the 
Son  of  Man ;  with  gardens  of  olives  and  vineyards  between, 
where  he  was  wont  to  pray  for  his  people  and  weep  for  a 
sinful  world ;  with  one  spot  upon  those  terraced  slopes  over¬ 
looking  the  wilderness,  where  his  feet  stood  on  the  eve  of 
the  Ascension,  and  where  his  wondering  disciples  received 
from  white-robed  angels  the  joyous  promise  of  his  second 
advent. — With  these  hallowed  associations  clustering  round 
it,  surely  it  will  be  admitted  that,  above  and  beyond  all 
places  in  Palestine,  Olivet  witnessed  “  God  manifest  in 

FLESH.” 

“  Here  may  we  sit  and  dream 
Over  the  heavenly  theme, 

Till  to  our  soul  the  former  days  return. 

*  *  *  * 


Or  choose  thee  out  a  cell 
In  Kidron’s  storied  dell, 


156 


JERUSALEM  AND  ITS  ENVIRONS. 


Beside  the  springs  of  love  that  never  die  ; 

Among  the  olives  kneel, 

The  chill  night  blast  to  feel, 

And  watch  the  moon  that  saw  thy  Master’s  agony.” 

Yet  I  was  disappointed  in  Olivet, — not  in  its  associations; 
no  Christian  could  be  disappointed  in  these,  —  but  in  its 
appearance.  One  always  expects  to  find  something  in  a 
holy  or  historic  place  worthy  of  its  history.  Here  there  is 
nothing.  When  approaching  Jerusalem  from  the  west  I 
looked,  but  I  looked  in  vain,  for  any  “  mountain”  or  even 
“  mount  ”  that  the  eye  could  at  once  rest  on  and  identify  as 
Olivet.  Beyond  the  grey  battlements  of  the  city  lay  a  long 
ridge ,  barely  overtopping  the  Castle  of  David,  and  the 
higher  buildings  on  Zion, — drooping  to  the  right  it  opens 
a  view  of  the  distant  mountains  of  Moab,  and  running  away 
far  to  the  north  it  fills  in  the  whole  background.  This  is 
Olivet.  It  has  no  striking  features ;  it  might  be  said  to 
have  no  features  at  all.  It  is  rounded,  regular,  colourless ; 
and  the  air  is  so  clear,  and  the  colouring  so  defective,  that 
it  seems  to  rise  immediately  out  of  the  city.  In  the  dis¬ 
tance  the  outline  is  almost  horizontal,  but  as  one  draws 
near  it  becomes  wavy,  and  at  length  three  tops  or  eminences 
can  be  distinguished,  the  central  and  highest  crowned  with 
the  dome  and  minaret  of  the  “  Church  of  the  Ascension,” 
and  the  other  two  about  equi-distant  to  the  right  and  left. 
Photographs  show  these  peculiarities,  and  consequently 
look  flat  and  uninteresting ;  while  in  every  sketch  I  have 
seen,  the  imagination  of  the  artist  has  greatly  increased 
both  the  apparent  distance  and  elevation  of  Olivet,  thus 
sacrificing  truth  to  eflect. 

When  I  passed  round  the  city  and  stood  on  the  brow  of 
the  Kidron,  at  the  north-east  angle  of  the  wall,  the  view 
was  much  more  impressive  ;  in  fact,  this  is  one  of  the  most 
picturesque  views  about  Jerusalem.  Olivet  now  assumed 
the  appearance  of  a  “  mount.”  At  my  feet  was  the  deep 
glen,  shaded  with  dusky  oliv<  groves ;  and  from  the  bottom 


FEATURES  OF  OLIVET. 


157 


swelled  up  in  grey  terraced  slopes  and  grey  limestone  crags, 
nearly  six  hundred  feet,  the  hill-side.  Close  on  my  right 
#  was  the  city  wall,  running  south  in  a  straight  line  near — 
not  upon — the  rocky  edge  of  the  ravine,  till  it  joined  the 
loftier  and  more  massive  wall  of  the  Haram.  The  depth 
of  the  Kidron  and  the  comparative  elevation  and  respective 
positions  of  Moriah  and  Olivet  are  seen  from  this  point  to 
great  advantage.  The  sides  of  the  two  hills  meet,  and  here 
and  there  overlap  in  the  bottom  of  the  narrow  crooked 
glen ;  while  the  summits  are  barely  half  a  mile  apart, — 
Olivet  overtopping  its  sister  three  hundred  feet.  The  side 
of  Moriah  is  steep  and  bare  as  if  scarped ;  while  the  whole 
of  Olivet  is  cultivated  in  little  terraced  fields  of  wheat  and 
barley,  intermixed  with  a  few  straggling  vines  trailing 
along  the  ground  or  hanging  over  the  rude  terrace  walls. 
Fig  trees  are  seen  at  intervals,  but  olives  are  still,  as  they 
w  ere  in  our  Lord’s  days,  the  prevailing  trees  on  the  mount. 
It  has  as  good  a  title  now  as  it  perhaps  ever  had  to  the 
name  “Olivet.”  Olive  trees  dot  it  all  over, — in  some  places 
far  apart,  in  others  closer  together,  though  nowhere  so  close 
as  to  form  groves.  Most  of  them  are  old,  gnarled,  and 
stunted,  a  few  are  propped  up  and  in  the  last  stage  of  de¬ 
cay,  and  I  saw  scarcely  any  young  vigorous  trees. 

I  endeavoured,  Avhen  residing  on  the  Mount  of  Olives, 
to  localize  every  incident  of  Scripture  history  of  which  it 
was  the  scene,  to  bring  together  the  sacred  narrative  and 
the  sacred  place, — so  to  group,  in  fact,  the  various  actors 
on  the  spots  where  they  acted,  that  the  stories  might  be 
made  to  assume  to  my  mind  as  far  as  possible  the  sem¬ 
blance  of  reality.  I  tried  to  follow  every  footstep  of  David, 
and  of  David’s  Greater  Son, — to  recall  every  circumstance, 
and  note  every  local  characteristic,  and  every  topographi¬ 
cal  feature  that  might  illustrate  the  prophecies  and  para¬ 
bles,  the  discourses,  miracles,  and  walks  of  our  Lord.  Some 
of  the  leading  points  are  fixed,  and  cannot  be  mistaken,  such 
as  Bethany,  and  Jerusalem,  and  the  one  great  road  from  the 


158 


JERUSALEM  AND  ITS  ENVIRONS. 


city,  deeply  cut  in  zigzag  lines  down  the  steep  side  of 
Moriah  from  St.  Stephen’s  gate  to  the  bridge  over  t  he  Kid- 
ron.  Then  there  are  the  two  main  roads  over  Olivet  to 
Bethany,  branching  at  the  bridge, — the  one  crossing  the 
summit  almost  in  a  straight  line,  is  steep,  rugged,  and  only 
fit  for  pedestrians  or  active  cavaliers ;  the  other,  diverging 
to  the  right,  winds  round  the  southern  shoulder  of  the  hill, 
and  is  easier,  and  better  adapted  for  caravans  and  proces¬ 
sions.  Many  difficulties  met  me  in  the  arrangement  of  de¬ 
tails.  Gradually,  however,  they  cleared  away.  Daily  study 
of  the  Record,  and  daily  examination  of  the  mount,  re¬ 
moved  one  after  another,  until  at  length  the  texts  and 
places,  the  stories  and  the  scenes,  so  completely  harmon¬ 
ized  and  blended  that  they  formed  one  series  of  graphic 
and  vivid  life  pictures. 

I  shall  now  try  to  show  my  reader  what  I  saw  myself, 
and  make  Olivet  to  him  what  it  must  ever  henceforth  be  to 
me, — one  of  the  most  venerated  and  instructive  spots  on 
earth.  True,  Christianity  is  not  a  religion  of  “  holy  places 
on  the  contrary,  the  whole  spirit  of  the  Gospel, — the  whole 
writings  and  teachings  of  our  Lord  and  his  apostles,  tend 
to  withdraw  men’s  minds  from  an  attachment  to  places,  and 
to  lead  them  to  worship  a  spiritual  God  “  in  spirit  and  in 
truth.”  It  was  not  without  a  wise  purpose  that  the  exact 
scenes  of  the  Annunciation,  the  Nativity,  the  Crucifixion, 
the  Resurrection,  and  the  Ascension,  were  left  unknown  ; 
and  that  these  events  themselves  were  made  to  stand  alto¬ 
gether  unconnected  with  places,  giving  no  sanctity  to  them, 
and  deriving  no  superior  efficacy  from  them.  God  thus 
took  away  all  ground  and  excuse  for  that  superstition  which 
will  only  offer  its  incense  at  an  earthly  shrine.  He  showed 
that  Christianity  was  designed  to  be  the  religion  of  the 
world,  and  not  merely  of  Palestine,  —  that  the  story  of 
Jesus  and  his  salvation  was  written  not  for  one  nation,  but 
to  be  read  and  understood  equally  by  all  mankind. 

This  is  true :  and  yet  it  is  no  less  true  that  when  we  stand 


GETHSEMANE. 


159 


upon  the  spot  where  the  discourses  of  the  Gospel  were  de¬ 
livered,  or  where  the  incidents  of  the  Gospel  occurred, — 
when  we  look  upon  the  very  objects  which  called  forth  the 
sayings  of  our  Lord,  or  which  gave  a  turn  and  a  point  to 
his  language,  or  which  furnished  his  illustrations,  or  which 
formed  the  subjects  of  his  prophetic  denunciations,  a  flood 
of  light  is  thrown  upon  the  record,  and  the  various  state¬ 
ments,  discourses,  and  stories  assume  a  freshness,  a  life-like 
vividness,  which  equally  delights  and  astonishes  us. 

GETHSEMANE. 

It  would  appear  that  our  Lord,  during  his  visits  to  Jeru¬ 
salem,  never  spent  a  night  in  the  city.  Sometimes  he 
walked  to  Bethany,  but  usually  he  made  the  Mount  of 
Olives  his  home.  Thus  we  read  in  John,  “Every  man 
went  unto  his  own  house,  Jesus  went  unto  the  Mount  of 
Olives  ”  (vii.  53 ;  viii.  1) ;  and  Luke  narrating  the  events 
of  another  visit,  says,  “  In  the  daytime  he  was  teaching  in 
the  Temple ;  and  at  night  he  went  out  and  abode  in  the 
mount  that  is  called  the  Mount  of  Olives  ”  (xxi.  37).  A 
habit  is  here  spoken  of, — the  usual  practice  of  our  Lord,  as 
is  still  more  plainly  intimated  in  the  story  of  his  betrayal, — 
“He  came  out,  and  went,  as  he  was  wont ,  to  the  Mount  of 
Olives”  (ver.  39;  see  also  John  xviii.  2).  It  appears,  more¬ 
over,  that  there  was  one  particular  “  place  ”  on  the  mount 
to  which  he  was  accustomed  to  go,  and  in  which  to  stay ; 
for  it  is  added,  “  And  when  he  was  at  the  place ,  he  said,” 
&c.  John  informs  us  that  this  “place”  was  a  garden — an 
enclosure  planted  with  trees  ( Kijnog ,  xviii.  i)  ;  and  that  it 
was  “over  the  brook  Cedron,”  that  is,  on  the  other  side 
from  J erusalem.  Matthew  and  Mark  give  us  the  name  of 
the  “garden”  —  “Then  cometh  Jesus  with  them  unto  a 
place  called  Gethsemane,”  or  “  oil-press,”  doubtless  be¬ 
cause  there  was  an  oil-press  in  the  garden,  as  there  usually 
is  connected  with  every  olive-yard  (Matt.  xxvi.  36 ;  Mark 
xiv.  32). 


160 


JERUSALEM  AND  ITS  ENVIRONS. 


Here,  then,  we  have  a  most  interesting  trait  in  the  char¬ 
acter  of  Jesns,  and  we  have  a  spot  indicated  which  is  more 
closely  connected  than  any  other  with  his  private  life. 
After  wearing  and  toilsome  labours  during  the  day  in  the 
crowded  streets  of  the  city — after  jarring  controversies  with 
scribes  and  Pharisees  in  the  Temple  courts,  he  was  accus¬ 
tomed  to  retire  in  the  evening  with  his  disciples  to  this 
garden,  and  there  spend  the  night  in  peaceful  seclusion. 
And  when  fanaticism  broke  forth  into  open  persecution — 
when  an  infatuated  populace  cried  for  his  blood,  and  took 
up  stones  to  stone  him,  passing  through  them  he  found  an 
asylum  in  the  deep  shade  of  Gethsemane  (John  viii.  59; 
Luke  x.  25-38).  Here,  too,  he  had  his  Oratory ,  where  he 
was  wont  to  pray.  On  the  night  of  his  betrayal,  when  he 
had  led  his  disciples  to  “  the  garden,”  he  said, — “  Sit  ye 
here,  while  I  go  and  pray  yonder ”  (Matt.  xxvi.  36),  no 
doubt  indicating  some  well-known  spot  away  in  the  deeper 
shade  of  the  olive  trees.  There  is  a  strong  probability  too 
that  this  was  that  “ certain  place  ”  mentioned  by  Luke 
where  Jesus  was  praying  when,  at  the  request  of  his  dis¬ 
ciples,  he  taught  them  the  Lord’s  Prayer  (Luke  xi.  1 ;  x. 
38-42).  It  may  have  been  to  this  very  place  that  Nicode- 
mus  came  by  night,  having  heard  the  secret  of  the  Saviour’s 
retreat  from  some  of  his  followers,  or  perhaps  having  been 
himself  the  owner  of  the  garden. 

That  the  Son  of  Man  should  have  his  house  in  a  garden — • 
that  he  should  be  forced  to  rest,  and  sleep,  and  pray  on  the 
hill- side,  under  the  open  canopy  of  heaven — must  seem  to 
many  passing  strange.  It  looks  like  a  practical  commen¬ 
tary  on  his  own  touching  declaration :  “  The  foxes  have 
holes,  and  the  birds  of  the  air  have  nests,  but  the  Son  of 
Man  hath  not  where  to  lay  his  head.”  May  we  not  ask, 
however,  “If  there  was  no  house  in  Jerusalem  that  would 
shelter,  no  friend  there  that  would  welcome  him,  wTas  not 
Bethany  near  ?  W as  there  not  a  home  for  him  in  the 
house  of  Martha  ?  Why  did  he  not  go  to  Bethany  ?”  Those 


t 


Christ’s  home  on  olivet.  161 

at  all  familiar  with  Eastern  life  will  easily  understand  the 
whole  matter.  Nearly  all  the  inhabitants  of  Palestine  sleep 
during  a  great  part  of  the  year  in  the  open  air,  on  the  house- 
to]),  or  in  garden  or  field.  It  is  common  for  families  to 
leave  their  houses  in  town  or  village  early  in  spring,  and 
bivouac  under  a  tree  or  rude  arbour  the  whole  summer. 
Travellers,  when  about  to  spend  a  few  days  or  weeks  at  a 
town  or  village,  generally  rent  a  garden  and  live  there.  I 
have  often  done  so  myself,  and  have  slept  with  the  earth 
for  a  bed,  and  the  starry  sky  for  a  canopy.  There  is  no 
rain,  and  no  dew ;  the  ground  is  dry,  and  the  fresh  balmy 
air  of  the  country  is  far  preferable  to  the  close,  stifling  at¬ 
mosphere  of  an  eastern  city.  Another  thing  must  not  be 
overlooked.  As  society  is  constituted  in  the  East,  one  can 
have  no  privacy  in  a  strange  house,  night  or  day.  The  one 
apartment  in  which  all  the  males  sit,  sleep,  and  eat,  is  open 
to  all  comers.  If  we  would  meditate  or  pray,  we  must  go, 
like  Peter,  to  the  house-top  (Acts  x.  9),  or,  like  Isaac,  to  the 
field  (Gen.  xxiv.  63),  or,  like  Jesus,  to  a  mountain  (Luke 
vi.  12).  Our  Lord  desired  a  place  where  he  could  be  alone 
with  his  disciples,  and  alone  with  his  F ather ;  and  he  chose 
the  garden  on  Olivet.  Most  probably  it  belonged  to  some 
secret  friend  who  placed  it  at  his  disposal.  Be  this  as  it 
may,  his  followers  knew  it  well,  “and  Judas  also,  which 
betrayed  him,  knew  the  place,  for  J esus  oft-times  resorted 
thither  with  his  disciples”  (John  xviii.  2). 

Often  and  often  I  have  walked  from  Jerusalem  to  the 
Mount  of  Olives — by  day,  in  the  full  blaze  of  sunlight ;  at 
even,  when  the  shadows  were  deep  in  the  Kidron ;  in  the 
still  night,  when  the  moon  shed  her  pale  silvery  beams  on 
grey  crag  and  dusky  tree.  Now  I  wandered  round  the 
southern  angle  of  the  Haram,  past  those  great  old  stones, 
and  along  the  brow  of  the  glen ;  now  I  went  straight  down 
from  the  city-gate  ;  now  round  by  the  north  wall.  All  the 
paths  to  Olivet  converge  at  the  ancient  road  which  winds 
down  the  steep  bank  to  the  bridge.  I  always  felt,  as  I 


162 


JERUSALEM  AND  ITS  ENVIRONS. 


passed  down  that  road  and  crossed  the  Kidron,  that  I  was 
treadirfg  in  the  very  footsteps  of  my  Lord,  and  on  that  very 
path  along  which  he  so  often  retired,  weary  and  sorrowful, 
to  his  retreat  in  Gethsemane. 

After  crossing  the  bridge,  the  ancient  road  ascends  the 
lower  slope  of  Olivet  for  about  a  hundred  yards,  and  then 
branches.  One  branch  runs  right  up  to  the  summit,  the 
other  turns  to  the  right.  In  the  angle  between  them  is  a 
little  garden,  enclosed  by  a  high  modern  wall.  This  is  the 
traditional ,  and  it  may  be  the  real  Gethsemane.  At  any 
rate,  Gethsemane  could  not  have  been  far  distant.  The 
.  garden  belongs  to  the  Latin  convent.  Entering  we  find 
trim  flower-beds,  and  gravel  walks.  These  have  no  attrac¬ 
tions  for  us  ;  neither  has  “  the  bank  on  which  the  apostles 
slept,”  nor  “  the  grotto  of  the  Agony,”  nor  any  other  of  the 
apocryphal  “holy  places,”  which  ecclesiastical  superstition 
has  placed  there ;  but  eight  venerable  olive  trees  rivet  our 
attention.  They  are  real  patriarchs  ;  their  huge  trunks  are 
rent,  hollowed,  gnarled,  and  propped  up,  and  their  boughs 
hoary  with  age.  They  seem  old  enough,  and  probably  are 
old  enough,  to  have  formed  an  arbour  for  Jesus.  How 
often  have  I  sat  on  a  rocky  bank  in  that  garden  !  How 
often,  beneath  the  grateful  shade  of  the  old  olives,  have  I 
read  and  re-read  the  story  of  the  betrayal !  How  often 
have  I  fondly  lingered  there  far  on  into  the  still  night,  when 
the  city  above  was  hushed  in  sleep,  and  no  sound  was  heard 
save  the  sighing  of  the  breeze  among  the  olive  branches, 
thinking  and  thinking  on  those  miracles  of  love  and  power 
that  He  performed  there  ! 

“  Who  can  thy  deep  wonders  see, 

Wonderful  Gethsemane ! 

There  my  God  bare  all  my  guilt ; 

This  through  grace  can  be  believed ; 

But  the  horrors  which  he  felt 
Are  too  ''•ast  to  be  conceived. 

None  can  p  fnetrate  through  thee, 

Doleful,  dark  Gethsemane  !  ” 


Christ’s  predictions  fulfilled. 


163 


THE  DESTRUCTION  OF  THE  TEMPLE  FORETOLD. 

Our  Lord  had  paid  his  last  visit  to  the  temple.  When 
passing  out,  solemn  and  sad,  the  disciples  said,  “Master, 
see  what  manner  of  stones  and  what  buildings  are  here !” 
They  had  probably  heard  some  word  fall  from  his  lips 
which  excited  their  alarm,  and  they  thus  tried  to  awaken 
in  his  mind  a  deeper  interest  in  their  venerated  temple.  It 
was  in  vain.  “  Seest  thou  these  great  buildings?  there  shall 
not  be  left  one  stone  upon  another  that  shall  not  be  thrown 
down”  (Mark  xiii.  1,  2).  He  went  on,  crossed  the  Kidron, 
and  followed  the  road  to  Bethany,  apparently  the  lower 
road,  for  he  came  to  a  commanding  point  “  over  against 
the  temple,”  and  there  sat  down.  The .  temple  and  its 
courts  were  in  full  view ;  the  eye  could  see  distinctly  across 
the  ravine,  the  gorgeous  details  of  its  architecture,  and  the 
colossal  magnitude  of  its  masonry  ;  and  there,  with  his  eye 
upon  them,  and  his  disciples’  attention  directed  to  them,  he 
foretold  the  destruction  of  both  temple  and  city,  summing 
up  with  the  terrible  words,  “  This  generation  shall  not  pass 
away  till  all  be  fulfilled.  Heaven  and  earth  shall  pass 
away;  but  my  words  shall  not  pass  away”  (Luke  xxi.  33). 

I  walked  up  that  same  path.  I  sat  down  on  a  projecting 
rock  “  over  against  the  temple.”  It  may  not  have  been  the 
very  spot  on  which  Christ  sat,  but  it  could  not  have  been 
far  from  it.  I  looked,  and  I  saw  that  the  prophecy  was 
fulfilled  to  the  letter — not  a  single  stone  of  the  temple  re¬ 
mains.  I  read  the  whole  of  the  prophecies  and  parables 
uttered  at  that  place  by  the  Saviour,  and  I  read  them  with 
a  far  deeper  interest,  and  a  far  more  intense  feeling  of  real¬ 
ity  than  I  had  ever  experienced  before  (Matt,  xxiv.,  xxvi.) 

david’s  flight  from  absalom. 

Crossing  the  Kidron  by  the  bridge — a  bridge  which,  I 
may  state,  is  only  intended  to  raise  the  road,  as  there  is 
neither  “  brook  ”  nor  brook-bed  in  this  part  of  the  Kidron — * 


164 


JERUSALEM  AND  ITS  ENVIRONS. 


leaving  the  picturesque  Church  of  the  Virgin  down  in  its 
sunken  area  on  the  left,  and  Gethsemane  on  the  right,  I 
climbed  the  ancient  road  to  the  top  of  Olivet.  Here  and 
there  the  rock  has  been  cut  away,  and  rude  steps  formed ; 
more  frequently  deep  tracks  or  channels,  worn  by  the  feet 
of  countless  wayfarers  during  long,  long  centuries,  are  seen 
on  the  rocky  ledges.  I  was  now  on  the  footsteps  of  David, 
who,  when  fleeing  from  Absalom,  “  went  over  the  brook 
Kidron  toward  the  way  of  the  wilderness.  .  .  and  went  up 
by  the  ascent  of  Olivet,  and  wept  as  he  went  up,  and  had 
his  head  covered ;  and  he  went  barefoot ;  and  all  the  peo¬ 
ple  that  was  with  him  covered  every  man  his  head,  and 
they  went  up  weeping  as  they  went”  (2  Sam.  xv.  23,  30). 
It  was  a  sad  and  touching  spectacle  ;  and  dearly  did  the 
king  then  pay  for  those  sins  which  had  led  to  the  formation 
of  an  ill-assorted  and  badly-trained  family. 

On  reaching  the  top  of  the  mount,  David  turned  to  take 
a  last  fond  look  at  his  home,  now  the  seat  of  unnatural  re¬ 
bellion  ;  and  there,  in  sight  of  the  Holy  City  and  Ark,  he 
paused  to  worship  God.  In  his  hour  of  suffering  he  carried 
into  practice  the  noble  sentiments  of  the  42d  Psalm,  “I 
will  say  unto  God  my  rock,  Why  hast  thou  forgotten  me  ? 
Why  go  I  mourning  because  of  the  oppression  of  the  ene¬ 
my  ?  Why  art  thou  cast  down,  O  my  soul  ?  and  why  art 
thou  disquieted  within  me  ?  Hope  thou  in  God ;  for  I  shall 
yet  praise  him,  who  is  the  health  of  my  countenance,  and 
my  God.”  From  the  brow  of  Olivet  the  eye  looks  down 
upon  Jerusalem  as  upon  an  embossed  picture.  The  ravines 
that  surround  it,  the  walls  that  encompass  it,  the  streets 
and  lanes  that  zigzag  through  it,  are  all  visible.  From  the 
same  spot  another  and  a  widely-different  view  opens  to  the 
eastward.  The  mount  stands  on  the  edge  of  the  wilder¬ 
ness.  With  the  crowded  city  behind,  and  the  bare  parched 
desert  in  front,  one  would  almost  think  Olivet  divided  the 
living  from  the  dead.  The  “  wilderness  of  Judea  ”  begins 
at  our  feet ;  breaking  down  in  a  succession  of  white  naked 


SCENE  OF  THE  ASCENSION. 


165 


hills,  and  jagged  limestone  cliffs,  and  naked  grey  ravines, 
until  at  length  the  hills  drop  suddenly  and  precipitously 
into  the  deep  valley  of  the  Jordan,  beyond  which  rises,  as 
suddenly  and  precipitously,  an  unbroken  mountain  range 
extending  north  and  south  along  the  horizon,  far  as  the 
eye  can  see.  That  range  is  the  Peraea ,  the  “  place  be¬ 
yond,”  of  the  New  Testament,  and  the  Moab  and  Gilead 
of  the  Old.  The  “  way  ”  along  which  David  fled  was  ap¬ 
propriately  named  the  “  way  of  the  wilderness.”  That 
“  wilderness  ”  was  the  scene  of  the  Temptation,  and  the 
“  way  ”  through  it  was  the  scene  of  the  “  Parable  of  the 
Good  Samaritan,”  which  was  related  by  our  Lord  either 
upon  this  very  summit,  or  on  the  path  between  it  and 
Bethany.  How  doubly  striking  must  that  beautiful  illus¬ 
tration  of  charity  have  been  when  Jesus  would  point  to 
that  dreary,  dangerous  desert  road,  while  repeating  the 
words,  aA  certain  man  went  down  from  Jerusalem  to 
Jericho,  and  fell  among  thieves  !  ”  (Luke  x.  25-3 7.) 

THE  ASCENSION. 

“  And  he  led  them  out  as  far  as  to  Bethany,  and  he  lifted 
up  his  hands  and  blessed  them ;  and  it  came  to  pass,  while 
he  blessed  them,  he  was  parted  from  them,  and  carried  up 
into  heaven”  (Luke  xxiv.  50).  When  on  Olivet  I  was 
deeply  inrpressed  with  the  belief — I  can  scarcely  tell  why, 
but  so  it  was — that  Jesus  on  this  occasion  took  the  upper 
road,  over  the  top  of  the  mount.  It  was  more  private ;  and 
the  moment  the  summit  was  passed,  he  and  his  disciples 
were  in  absolute  solitude.  Jerusalem  is  shut  out  by  the 
hill  ;  and  Bethany  is  hidden  until  we  reach  a  rocky  spur 
overhanging  the  little  nook  in  which  it  lies  embosomed. 
“  He  led  them  out  as  far  as  to  Bethany.”  This  can  scarce¬ 
ly  mean  “  into  Bethany.”  The  Ascension  appears  to  have 
been  witnessed  only  by  the  disciples ;  and  it  could  not, 
therefore,  have  taken  place  in  the  village ;  but  it  must  have 
been  close  to  it.  I  saw  one  spot,  “as  far”  from  Jerusalem 


1G6 


JERUSALEM  AND  ITS  ENVIRONS. 


as  Bethany,  very  near  the  village,  and  yet  concealed  from 
view,  and  I  thought  that  it,  in  all  probability,  was  the  very 
place  on  which  the  Saviour’s  feet  last  rested.  As  I  sat 
there  and  read  the  simple,  graphic  story  of  the  ascension 
(Luke  xxiv.  50;  Acts  i.  9-12),  I  was  impressed  as  I  never 
had  been  before  with  the  intense,  the  almost  startling  viv¬ 
idness  of  the  sacred  narrative.  The  Saviour  gradually  as¬ 
cending  while  the  words  of  blessing  still  flowed  from  his 
lips — the  wondering,  awe-stricken  disciples  following  him 
upward  and  upward  with  eager  gaze  —  the  cloud  slowly 
folding  round  him,  and  at  length  hiding  him  in  its  bright 
bosom — the  white-robed  angels  bursting  suddenly  from  it 
and  standing  in  the  midst  of  the  disciples !  What  a  glo¬ 
rious  picture  !  What  joy  it  brings  to  the  Christian’s  heart ! 
Our  Substitute,  our  Saviour,  our  Brother,  our  Forerunner, 
thus  ascending  on  the  wings  of  victory  to  the  heaven  he 
had  won  for  us  !  While  I  read  and  meditated,  it  seemed  as  if 
there  was  wafted  to  my  ear  in  voice  of  sweetest  melody  the 
cheering  words  of  the  angelic  promise,  “This  same  Jesus 
which  is  taken  up  from  you  into  heaven,  shall  so  come  in 
like  manner  as  ye  have  seen  him  to  go  into  heaven ’’(Acts 
i.  11).  “Even  so  come,  Lord  Jesus,  come  quickly.” 

The  top  of  the  Mount  of  Olives  is  the  traditional  scene  of 
the  ascension,  and  a  church  was  built  over  it  in  the  fourth 
century  by  Helena  the  mother  of  Constantine.  That  build¬ 
ing  has  long  since  disappeared,  and  the  reputed  site  is  now 
occupied  by  an  humble  chapel  which  stands  in  the  court  of 
a  mosque !  Crowds  of  pilgrims  visit  it,  and  have  done  so 
for  many  centuries.  The  guardian  shows  them  the  print 
of  one  of  the  Saviour’s  feet  in  the  rock,  and  tells  them 
that  both  footprints  were  there  until  the  Mohammedans 
stole  one  of  them.  Bishop  Ellicott  and  others  think  the 
traditional  may  be  the  true  site  of  the  ascension;  but  I 
cannot  see  how  the  words  “  as  far  as  to  Bethany  ”  can  be 
made  to  signify  “  to  the  top  of  Olivet,”  which  is  not  half 
way  to  that  village. 


BETHANY. 


167 


BETHANY. 

What  particularly  struck  me  in  all  my  visits  to  Bethany 
was  its  solitude.  It  looks  as  if  it  were  shut  out  from  the 
whole  world.  No  town,  village,  or  human  habitation  is 
visible  from  it.  The  wilderness  appears  in  front  through 
an  opening  in  the  rocky  glen ;  and  the  steep  side  of  Olivet 
rises  close  behind.  When  Jesus  retired  from  Jerusalem  to 
Bethany,  no  sound  of  the  busy  world  followed  him — no 
noisy  crowd  broke  in  upon  his  meditation.  In  the  quiet 
home  of  Martha,  or  in  some  lonely  recess  of  Bethany’s  se¬ 
cluded  dell,  he  rested,  and  taught,  and  prayed.  Plow  de¬ 
lighted  I  was  one  evening,  when  seated  on  a  rocky  bank 
beside  the  village,  reading  the  story  of  Lazarus,  to  hear  a 
passing  villager  say,  “There  is  the  tomb  of  Lazarus,  and 
yonder  is  the  house  of  Martha !”  They  may  not  be,  most 
probably  they  are  not,  the  real  places ;  but  this  is  Bethany, 
and  the  miracle  wrought  there  still  dwells  in  the  memory 
of  its  inhabitants.  And  when  the  unvarying  features  of  na¬ 
ture  are  there  too — the  cliffs,  the  secluded  glen,  the  Mount 
of  Olives  —  few  will  think  of  traditional  “holy  places.” 
From  the  place  where  I  sat  I  saw — as  Martha  and  Mary 
had  seen  from  their  house-top — those  blue  mountains  be¬ 
yond  Jordan,  where  Jesus  was  abiding  when  they  sent 
unto  him,  saying,  “  Lord,  behold,  he  whom  thou  lovest  is 
sick” (John  x.  40;  xi.  3).  I  also  saw  the,  road  “from  Jeru¬ 
salem  to  Jericho”  winding  past  the  village,  and  away 
down  the  rocky  declivities  into  the  wilderness.  By  that 
road  Jesus  was  expected;  and  one  can  fancy  with  what 
earnest,  longing  eyes  the  sisters  looked  along  it — ever  and 
anon  returning  and  looking,  from  the  first  dawn  till  waning 
twilight.  And  when  at  last  he  did  come,  and  Martha 
heard  the  news,  one  can  picture  the  touching  scene,  how 
she  ran  along  that  road,  and  with  streaming  eyes  and  quiv¬ 
ering  lips  uttered  the  half-reproachful  and  still  half-hope¬ 
ful  cry,  “  Lord,  if  thou  hadst  been  here  my  brother  had  not 
died.”  A 


8 


168 


JERUSALEM  AND  ITS  ENVIRONS. 


Bethany  is  now,  and  apparently  always  was,  a  small, 
poor,  mountain  hamlet;  with  nothing  to  charm  except  its 
seclusion,  and  nothing  to  interest  save  its  associations.  It 
is  a  remarkable  fact  that  Christ’s  great  miracle  has  been  to 
it  as  a  new  baptism,  conferring  a  new  name.  It  is  now 
called  JEl-Azariyeh ,  which  may  be  interpreted,  “  The  Place 
of  Lazarus.”  The  “  palms  ”  are  all  gone  which  gave  it  its 
old  name  JBeth-any,  “House  of  Dates;”  but  the  crags 
around,  and  the  terraced  slopes  above  it  are  dotted  yet  with 
venerable  fig-trees,  as  if  to  show  that  its  sister  village, 
Beth-pliagc ,  “  House  of  Figs,”  is  not  forgotten,  though  its 
site  is  lost.  The  houses  of  Bethany  are  of  stone,  massive 
and  rude  in  style.  Over  them,  on  the  top  of  a  scarped  rock, 
rises  a  fragment  of  heavy  ancient  masonry — perhaps  a  por¬ 
tion  of  an  old  watch-tower.  The  reputed  tomb  of  Lazarus 
is  a  deep  narrow  vault,  apparently  of  no  great  antiquity. 

Christ’s  triumphal  entry  into  Jerusalem. 

Our  Lord  reached  Bethany  from  Jericho  on  the  evening  of 
Friday  after  sunset,  or  the  morning  of  Saturday,  the  Jewish 
Sabbath  (John  xii.  1) ;  and  on  the  next  day  (ver.  12),  he 
made  his  triumphal  entry  into  Jerusalem.  It  was  the 
Passover  week.  The  holy  city  was  crowded,  and  the  fame 
of  Jesus,  and  of  the  miracle  he  had  performed  on  Lazarus, 
brought  multitudes  to  Bethany.  He  knew  that  the  time 
was  now  come  for  the  complete  fulfilment  of  prophecy,  and 
that  Zion’s  King  should  that  day  in  triumph  enter  Zion’s 
gates  (Zech.  ix.  9).  Knowing  what  was  before  him,  it  was 
natural  he  should  take  the  easy  caravan  road  round  the 
southern  shoulder  of  Olivet,  and  not  the  steep  and  difficult 
one  over  the  summit.  When  setting  forth  there  was  noth¬ 
ing  either  in  dress  or  mien  to  distinguish  Jesus  from  others. 
Prophecy  declared  that  he  should  be  “meek  and  lowly,” 
and  he  was  “  meek  and  lowly.”  The  little  band  of  humble 
disciples  gathered  closely  round  his  person,  while  the  mul¬ 
titude  thronged  the  path,  and  lined  the  rocky  banks  above 


THE  TRIUMPHAL  ENTRY. 


169 


it.  Soon  after  leaving  Bethany  the  road  meets  a  ravine 
which  furrows  deeply  the  side  of  Olivet.  From  this  point 
the  top  of  Zion  is  seen ;  but  the  rest  of  the  city  is  hid  by 
an  intervening  ridge ;  and  just  opposite  this  point,  on  the 
other  side  of  the  ravine,  I  saw  the  site  and  remains  of  an 
ancient  village.  The  road  turns  sharply  to  the  right,  de¬ 
scends  obliquely  to  the  bottom  of  the  ravine,  and  then  turn¬ 
ing  to  the  left,  ascends  and  reaches  the  top  of  the  opposite 
ridge  a  short  distance  above  the  site  of  the  village.  Is  not 
this  the  place  where  Jesus  said  to  the  two  disciples,  “  Go 
into  the  village  over  against  you?”  These  active  foot¬ 
men  could  cross  the  ravine  direct  in  a  minute  or  two, 
while  the  great  procession  would  take  some  time  in  slowly 
winding  round  the  road.  The  people  of  the  village  saw 
the  procession;  they  knew  its  cause,  for  the  fame  of  Jesus’ 
miracles  had  reached  them;  they  were  thus  prepared  to 
give  the  ass  to  the  disciples  the  moment  they  heard,  “  The 
Lord  had  need  of  him.”  And  the  disciples  taking  the  ass, 
led  it  up  to  the  road,  and  met  Jesus.  A  temporary  saddle 
was  soon  made  of  the  loose  outer  robes  of  the  people,  as  I 
have  myself  seen  done  a  hundred  times  in  Palestine.  Some 
of  the  people  now  broke  down  branches  from  the  palm  trees, 
and  waving  them  in  triumph,  threw  them  in  the  path. 
Others,  still  more  enthusiastic,  spread  their  garments  in  the 
way,  as  I  have  seen  Mohammedan  devotees  do  before  a  dis¬ 
tinguished  saint.  Zechariah’s  prophecy  was  now  fulfilled 
to  the  letter:  “Kejoice  greatly,  O  daughter  of  Zion;  shout, 
O  daughter  of  Jerusalem;  behold,  thy  king  cometh  unto 
thee ;  He  is  just,  and  having  salvation ;  lowly,  and  riding 
upon  an  ass”  (ix.  9). 

The  procession  advances.  The  crown  of  the  ridge  is 
gained;  and  Jerusalem  in  its  full  extent  and  beauty  bursts 
upon  the  view.  Moriah,  crowned  by  the  temple,  rises 
proudly  from  the  deep,  dark  Kidron ;  Zion  rises  higher  yet 
away  beyond  it,  showing  to  advantage  the  palace  of  Her¬ 
od,  and  the  lofty  battlements  of  Hippicus  and  its  sister 


170 


JERUSALEM  AND  ITS  ENVIRONS. 


towers ;  then  the  great  city,  and  its  gardens  stretching  far 
beyond.  One  look  on  their  beloved  and  beauteous  city, 
and  one  on  their  wonder-working  King  (Luke  xix.  37),  the 
multitudes  raised  their  voices  in  a  long  shout  of  triumph, 
“  Hosanna  to  the  Son  of  David ;  blessed  is  he  that  cometh 
in  the  name  of  the  Lord ;  hosanna  in  the  highest  ”  (Matt, 
xxi.  9). 

But  how  was  Jesus  affected  by  these  joyous  acclama¬ 
tions,  and  by  that  noble  view  ?  His  omniscient  eye  looked 
beneath  the  exuberance  of  enthusiasm — in  upon  the  evil 
heart  of  unbelief.  It  looked,  too,  from  the  gorgeous  build¬ 
ings  of  the  city,  away  down  the  dark  vista  of  time,  and 
saw  looming  in  the  future,  ruin,  desolation,  and  woe. 
Therefore  when  he  came  near — when  he  came  down,  prob¬ 
ably,  to  that  point  where  the  temple  was  directly  facing 
him,  and  all  the  richness  of  its  architecture  could  be  seen,— 
“  He  wept  over  it :  ” — 

“  Why  doth  my  Saviour  weep 
At  sight  of  Sion’s  bowers? 

Shows  it  not  fair  from  yonder  steep, 

Her  gorgeous  crown  of  towers  ? 

Mark  well  his  holy  pains, 

’Tis  not  in  pride  or  scorn, 

That  Israel’s  King  with  sorrow  stain 

■ 

His  own  triumphal  morn. 


*If  thou  hadst  known,  e’en  thou, 

At  least  in  this  thy  day. 

The  message  of  thy  peace  !  but  now 
’Tis  passed  for  aye  away : 

Now  foes  shall  trench  thee  round, 
And  lay  thee  even  with  earth, 

And  dash  thy  children  to  the  ground, 
Thy  glory  and  thy  mirth.’ 

And  doth  the  Saviour  weep 
Over  his  people’s  sin? 

Because  we  will  not  let  him  keep 
The  souls  he  died  to  win  ? 

Ye  hearts  that  love  the  Lord, 

If  at  this  sight  ye  burn, 

Bee  that  in  thought,  in  deed,  in  word^ 
Ye  hate  what  made  him  mourn.** 


THE  TRIUMPHAL  ENTRY. 


171 


The  scene  here  closes,  so  far  as  Olivet  is  concerned.  The 
mount  is  studded '  all  over  with  traditional  “  holy  places,” 
but  the  only  ones  which  tend  to  illustrate  the  sacred  narra¬ 
tive,  or  throw  light  on  the  journeys,  parables,  prophecies, 
or  miracles  of  our  Lord,  are  those  to  which  I  have  con¬ 
ducted  my  reader. 


IV. 

Cjjc  |5atiIt-Mbs  of  (Silicon,  |lt,  anb  Ulixljmasjr. 

“  I  wandered  on  to  many  a  shrine, 

By  faith  or  history  made  divine ; 

And  then  J  visited  each  place 

Where  valor’s  deeds  had  left  a  trace.” 

HE  stars  were  still  trembling  in  the  sky  when, 
from  the  top  of  our  little  tower,  we  heard  the 
impatient  horses  champing  their  bits  beneath. 
We  were  soon  in  the  saddle,  and  dashing  down 
the  rocky  side  of  Olivet.  It  was  a  dewy  morn  in  the  end 
of  September,  and  the  air  was  fresh  and  balmy.  Gethse- 
mane  and  the  Kidron  were  in  deep  gloom;  but  the  first 
fleecy  clouds  of  autumn,  high  overhead,  had  already  caught 
the  ruddy  rays  of  the  coming  sun.  A  death-like  silence 
reigned  in  the  Holy  City  as  we  rode  past.  Our  path  led 
through  the  olive-groves,  and  then  across  the  great  northern 
road,  near  those  mounds  of  ashes  which  have  of  late  creat¬ 
ed  so  much  controversy.  At  a  smart  pace  we  traversed 
the  rugged  table-land  at  the  head  of  the  Kidron,  noticing 
the  tombs  in  the  rocks  on  each  side.  The  plain  but  chaste 
fa9ade  of  the  Sepulchre  of  the  Judges  drew  our  attention. 
Within  its  dark  vaults  are  some  seventy  or  eighty  recesses 
for  bodies;  and  here,  it  is  said,  the  members  of  the  Jewish 
Sanhedrim  were  laid  in  glory,  “  every  one  in  his  own 
house.” 

We  had  now  reached  the  western  brow  of  the  table-land; 
and  the  deep  glen  of  Wady  Beit  Hanina  was  at  our  feet, 
its  banks  formed  into  natural  terraces  by  the  horizontal 


VIEW  FROM  NEBY  SAMWIL. 


173 


strata.  The  whole  scene  was  painfully  desolate.  Verdure 
there  was  none ;  —  but  grey  crowns  and  grey  cliffs  protrud¬ 
ing  everywhere  from  the  grey  soil.  In  places  the  decliv¬ 
ities  seemed  as  if  covered  with  white  flags.  The  few  old 
olives  scattered  singly  or  in  groups  along  the  glen  can 
scarcely  be  said  to  relieve  the  uniform  bareness ;  for  they 
too,  look  dusty  and  sapless;  and  the  stunted  trees  and 
shrubs,  clinging  to  the  mountain-sides  above,  only  make 
the  features  of  nature  more  forbidding.  There  was  a  total 
want  of  colour  and  variety  of  outline  in  the  landscape. 
The  dull  uniform  grey,  and  the  long  bare  declivities  and 
rounded  summits  had  nothing  attractive  in  them.  Most 
of  the  higher  peaks  are  singularly  formed.  They  rise  in 
concentric  rings  of  terraces,  like  steps  of  stairs,  from  bot¬ 
tom  to  top. 

MIZPEH. 

Away  beyond  the  Wady  towered  Neby  Samwil,  the 
highest  and  most  conspicuous  peak  in  southern  Palestine. 
Its  conical  top,  crowned  with  village,  mosque,  and  minaret, 
forms  the  only  striking  feature  in  the  northern  view  from 
Jerusalem.  To  it  we  were  now  bound  as  the  first  point  of 
interest  in  our  tour.  Diving  down  into  the  glen ;  and  then 
clambering  up  through  terraced  vineyards,  over  rude 
fences,  along  rocky  brakes, — startling  flocks  of  partridges 
at  almost  every  step — we  gained  the  summit,  and  commit¬ 
ted  our  panting  steed  to  the  care  of  a  group  of  wild-looking 
boys  who  had  been  watching  our  approach  from  the  walls 
of  a  ruined  tower.  The  village  sheikh  was  there  to  wel- 
come  us,  conspicuous  in  his  scarlet  robe,  which  to  this  day 
is  the  badge  of  royalty  or  power  among  the  inhabitants  of 
Palestine  (Lam.  iv.  5  ;  Dan.  v.  7 ;  Matt,  xxvii.  28).  Several 
of  his  elders  stood  round  him,  whose  outer  garments  in  the 
brilliancy  and  variety  of  hue  of  their  embroidery  reminded 
me  of  Joseph’s  coat  of  many  colours. 

Taking  the  worthy  chief  into  our  service  we  requested 


174 


JERUSALEM  AND  ITS  ENVIRONS. 


him  to  lead  the  way  to  the  top  of  the  minaret.  What  a 
noble  view  was  there !  I  had  seen  none  to  be  compared 
with  it  among  the  mountains  of  Palestine.  It  is  far  more 
extensive  than  that  from  Olivet,  or  Gerizim,  or  any  of  the 
peaks  around  Hebron.  Away  on  the  western  horizon  slept 
the  “  Great  Sea ;  ”  and  from  this  and  other  commanding 
heights  in  Palestine  I  saw  how  natural  it  was  for  the  an¬ 
cient  Israelite  to  make  the  word  “  sea  ”  (yam),  a  synonym 
for  “west”  (Gen.  xxviii.  14;  Ps.  cvii.  3).  Along  its  glit¬ 
tering  shore  lay  the  plains  of  Sharon  and  Philistia,  extend¬ 
ing  to  the  horizon  on  the  north  and  south — the  orange 
groves  of  Joppa  looking  like  a  shadow,  and  the  towns  of 
Ramleh,  Lydda,  and  Ekron  like  points  of  brilliant  light  on 
the  smooth  grey  surface.  Nearer  were  the  declivities  of 
Judah’s  mountains,  furrowed  deep  with  many  a  ravine,  and 
bristling  with  many  a  castle-like  village  and  ruin.  The 
broad  summit  of  the  ridge  Avas  a  forest  of  hill-tops,  —  sepa¬ 
rated,  here  by  a  little  upland  plain,  there  by  a  deep,  dark, 
winding  glen.  On  the  east  the  Jordan  and  its  valley  were 
hid  behind  the  hills  of  Benjamin,  but  the  chain  of  Moab 
and  Gilead  rose  over  them, — a  vast  Avail  of  azure,  built  up 
against  a  golden  sky,  and  streaked  from  base  to  summit 
with  rich  purple  shadows.  The  mountain  strongholds  of 
Judah  and  Benjamin,  renoAvned  of  yore  in  sacred  stoiy, 
or  celebrated  in  sacred  song,  Avere  grouped  around  me ; — 
Gibeon  on  its  “  hill ;  ”  Beth-horon  guarding  the  Avestern 
pass  (2  Chron.  viii.  4) ;  Beeroth  and  Bethel,  and  aAvay 
beyond  them  the  “  rock  Rimmon,”  Avhere  the  six  hundred 
men,  the  shattered  remnant  of  a  guilty  tribe,  found  an 
asylum  (Judges  xx.  45-48) ;  Ramah  of  Benjamin  croAvning 
its  “  height  ”  (1  Kings  xv.  1 7) ;  Gibeah  of  Saul,  noAV  a  bare 
desolate  “  mount  ”  (1  Sam.  x.  26) ;  Kirjath-jearim,  perched 
on  the  side  of  “the  hill,”  Avhere  the  ark  of  the  Lord  re¬ 
mained  so  long  in  the  house  of  Abinadab  (1  Sam.  vii.  1,2); 
Bethlehem,  overlooking  the  Avilderness,  where  its  shepherd 
warriors  Avere  trained  to  battle;  and  in  the  centre  of  the 


GIBEON. 


175 


group,  begirt  with  mountains  (Ps.  cxxv.  2),  Jerusalem  her¬ 
self  sat  in  queenly  state.  That  was  a  panorama  which,  once 
seen,  could  never  be  forgotten.  Time  cannot  deface  the 
picture ; — the  mind  must  treasure  up  the  stirring,  hallowed 
memories  with  which  every  feature  is  associated.  Probably 
this  peak,  from  which  the  western  pilgrim  gets  his  earliest 
glimpse  of  the  Holy  City,  was  in  Tasso’s  mind,  when  he 
thus  described  the  effect  of  “  that  first  far  view  ”  upon  the 
Crusaders, — 

“  Lo,  towered  Jerusalem  salutes  the  eyes  ! 

A  thousand  pointing  fingers  tell  the  tale ; 

‘  Jerusalem  !  ’  a  thousand  voices  cry, 

‘  All  hail,  Jerusalem  !  ’  hill,  down,  and  dale 
Catch  the  glad  sounds,  and  shout,  ‘  Jerusalem,  all  hail !  ’  ” 

The  mountain  gets  its  modern  name  from  an  early  tra¬ 
dition,  which  makes  this  village  the  site  of  Ramathaim-zo- 
phim, — the  house  and  burial-place  of  the  “  prophet  Samuel.” 
Topography  is  against  the  tradition,  but  it  seems  to  identi¬ 
fy  this  spot  as  the  Mizpeh , — “  watch-tower”  of  Benjamin 
(Josh  xviii.  26) ;  the  gathering-place  of  Israel,  where  the 
tribes  assembled  and  bound  themselves  by  an  oath  never 
to  return  to  their  homes  till  they  had  avenged  on  the  in¬ 
habitants  of  Gibeah  the  rights  of  hospitality  outraged  by 
an  abominable  crime  (Judges  xx.) ;  where  Saul  was  chosen 
monarch,  and  where,  for  the  first  time,  the  hills  of  Palestine 
echoed  back  the  loyal  cry,  “  God  save  the  king  ”  (1  Sam. 
x.  17).  It  appears  too  that  this  is  that  very  “high  place 
of  Gibeon  ”  where  Solomon  offered  a  thousand  burnt-offer¬ 
ings,  and  where  the  Lord,  in  answer  to  his  prayer,  gave 
him  the  wisdom  which  made  him  a  world’s  proverb  (1 
Kings  iii.  4-12).  Something  of  sanctity  has  ever  since 
clung  to  the  spot.  The  Crusaders  built  a  church  on  it ;  and 
now,  within  its  shattered  walls,  the  Mohammedans  have  a 
prayer-niche,  and  perform  their  devotions  beside  the  tra¬ 
ditional  tomb  of  the  great  Jewish  prophet. 


176 


JERUSALEM  AND  ITS  ENVIRONS. 


GIBE  ON  AND  ITS  BATTLE-FIELDS. 

At  the  northern  base  of  Neby-Samwil,  in  a  little  upland 
plain,  stands  a  low  circular  hill  with  steep  sides  and  flat 
top.  The  sides  are  covered  with  terraced  vineyards,  and 
on  the  top  is  the  village  of  El- Jib,  the  representative  of  the 
ancient  capital  of  the  wily  “  Gibeonites.”  The  name  de¬ 
scribes  the  site, —  Gibeon  signifies  “belonging  to  a  hill.” 
We  were  soon  in  the  midst  of  the  village  examining  the 
ruins  of  its  old  castle,  and  the  massive  fragments  of  ancient 
masonry  which  still  form  the  substructions  of  its  houses. 
But  the  fountain — there  is  only  one — was  the  main  point 
of  attraction.  It  bursts  from  a  rent  clifl*  at  the  eastern  base, 
and  empties  its  tiny  stream  into  a  large  reservoir  a  few 
yards  off  in  the  plain.  This  is  that  “Pool  of  Gibeon” 
where  Abner  and  Joab,  the  rival  warriors  of  Israel  met, 
and  where  David’s  general  gained  a  crowning  victory  (2 
Sam.  ii.  12-32). 

But  a  still  more  famous  battle  was  fought  beneath  the 
walls  of  Gibeon.  Its  old  inhabitants,  by  a  clever  trick,  had 
beguiled  the  Israelites  into  a  league  (Josh.  ix.  3-15).  The 
Canaanites  combined  against  them,  and  five  Amorite  kings 
marched  their  forces  to  punish  the  traitor  Gibeonites  (x. 
1-6).  Messengers  were  sent  to  Joshua,  then  encamped  at 
Jericho,  praying  for  help.  It  was  readily  granted.  In  the 
evening  Joshua  set  out;  all  night  his  active  troops  climbed 
the  rugged  defiles;  with  the  first  dawn  they  crossed  the 
rising  ground  which  shuts  in  the  little  plain  on  the  east, 
and  ere  a  note  of  warning  could  be  sounded,  they  charged 
the  besiegers.  The  attack  was  sudden  and  the  victory  de¬ 
cisive.  The  banded  forces  broke  and  fled  (x.  7-10). 

Mounting  our  horses,  we  turned  westward  to  trace  the 
line  of  flight.  The  Israelites  “  chased  them  along  the  way 
that  goeth  up  to  Betli-horon”  (verse  10).  A  quarter  of 
a  mile  west  of  Gibeon  is  a  sharp  ascent  to  a  low  ridge. 
Up  this  the  Amorites  fled,  hard  pressed  by  their  pursuers. 


BEEROTH  AND  BETHEL. 


177 


From  the  top  of  the  ridge  a  long  and  rugged  descent  leads 
to  Beth-horon ,  which  now  appears  in  front  crowning  a 
projecting  shoulder  of  the  mountain.  The  nature  of  the 
ground  favoured  the  fugitives,  but  “  as  they  lied  from  be¬ 
fore  Israel,  and  were  in  the  going  down  to  JBeth-horon ,  the 
Lord  cast  down  great  stones  from  heaven  upon  them  ”  (vcr 
11).  Joshua  led  the  van  of  his  troops.  He  saw  that  the 
victory  was  complete,  but  yet  that  night  must  eventually 
save  the  Amorite  army  from  total  destruction,  and  enable  a 
large  body  of  them  to  escape  to  their  cities  through  the  val¬ 
ley  of  Ajalon,  at  the  foot  of  the  pass  down  which  they  were 
rushing.  Then,  standing  on  some  commanding  rock  in  the 
sight  of  the  whole  people  (ver.  12),  in  the  fulness  of  faith 
and  in  the  ardour  of  enthusiasm,  Joshua  gave  utterance  to 
that  wondrous  prayer-prophecy  —  glancing  back  towards 
Gibeon  and  forward  upon  Ajalon — “  Sun,  stand  thou  still 
upon  Gibeon  /  and  thou ,  moon ,  in  the  valley  of  Ajalon. 
And  the  sun  stood  still,  and  the  moon  stayed  until  the  peo¬ 
ple  had  avenged  themselves  upon  their  enemies”  (ver. 
12-13). 

Beth-horon  itself, — “  Beth-horon  the  upper,”  now  called 
JBeit  Ur  el-JUoka ,  an  Arabic  translation  of  the  Hebrew 
name, — has  little  to  interest  us  besides  its  military  associa¬ 
tions  .as  a  strong  outpost  of  Judea,  guarding  the  principal 
pass  from  the  western  plain  to  Jerusalem  (1  Mac.  iii.  13- 
24).  As  I  sat  on  the  top  of  its  conical  hill,  beside  its 
shattered  walls,  I  saw  the  “nether  Beth-horon”  (Josh.  xvi. 
3)  away  below  at  the  bottom  of  the  pass ;  and  further  south, 
on  the  side  of  its  valley,  the  little  village  of  Ajalon.  The 
view  over  the  broad  expanse  of  Sharon  and  Philistia  to  the 
sea  was  glorious. 

BEEROTH  AND  BETHEL. 

We  now  turned  our  faces  eastward  again,  and  rode 
across  wild  and  bleak  hills,  dotted  here  and  there  with  a 
vineyard  or  an  olive-grove,  and  in  two  hours  reached  Bireh, 


178 


JERUSALEM  AND  ITS  ENVIRONS. 


the  ancient  Beeroth,  one  of  the  four  cities  of  the  Gibeonites 
(Josh.  ix.  17).  The  only  object  of  interest  there  is  an  old 
Gothic  church,  built  by  the  Knights  Templars,  who  held 
Beeroth  during  the  reign  of  the  Latin  kings.  I  did  not 
linger,  but  galloped  to  Bethel,  two  miles  distant,  where  I 
found  my  tent  pitched  beside  the  little  fountain. 

During  the  still  evening,  when  the  shadows  were  deepen¬ 
ing  in  the  glens,  and  the  last  rays  of  the  declining  sun  gild¬ 
ing  the  top  of  rock  and  cliff,  I  explored  the  site  of  this  the 
most  ancient  of  Israel’s  holy  places.  I  looked  all  round  in 
the  hope  of  identifying  the  spot  where  Jacob  slept,  and 
which  he  consecrated  and  called  the  “  House  of  God.”  I 
explored  the  rock  sepulchres,  too,  which  dot  the  sides  of 
“the  mount”  (2  Kings  xxiii.  16),  thinking  that  one  or 
other  of  them  might  be  that  of  “  the  man  of  God  from  J u- 
dah,”  whose  bones  Josiah  respected  (ver.  17,  18).  Clam¬ 
bering  to  the  top  of  a  shattered  tower  which  crowns  the 
hill  of  Bethel,  I  looked  long,  and  in  sadness,  over  that 
dreary  field  of  ruin,  only  inhabited  by  a  few  shepherds ;  and 
I  saw  how  terribly  time  had  fulfilled  the  city’s  prophetic 
doom:  “ Bethel  shall  come  to  nought  ”  (Amos  v.  5). 

ai. 

In  the  early  morning,  crossing  a  rocky  glen,  I  ascended 
the  mountain  to  the  spot  where  Abraham  pitched  his  tent 
and  built  his  altar,  “having  Bethel  on  the  west,  and  Hai 
(Ai)  on  the  east  ”  (Gen.  xii.  8).  Here  I  found  a  little  pla¬ 
teau,  stony  but  fertile,  on  the  very  crest  of  the  hill ;  and  on 
reaching  it  the  valley  of  the  Jordan,  and  the  glittering 
waters  of  the  Dead  Sea  suddenly  burst  upon  my  view,  lying 
deep,  deep  down  at  the  foot  of  a  dreary  wilderness.  On 
this  spot  Abraham  and  Lot  had  that  memorable  interview 
after  their  herdsmen  had  disputed,  and  “they  found  that 
the  land  was  not  able  to  bear  them,  that  they  might  dwell 
together,  for  their  substance  was  great  ”  (Gen.  xiii.  3-7). 
There  and  then  they  resolved  to  separate ;  and  “  Lot  lifted 


BETHEL  AND  AI. 


179 


up  his  eyes,  and  beheld  all  the  plain  of  Jordan  that  it  was 
well  watered”  (ver.  10),  and  he  chose  that  rich  region  as 
his  abode.  How  wonderfully  graphic  did  the  whole  narra¬ 
tive  appear  to  me  as  I  read  it  on  that  mountain-top. 

Bethel  was  behind  me  on  the  west ;  but  where  was  Ai — 
long  lost  Ai  ?  On  this  and  on  two  other  occasions  I  visited 
the  district  to  search  for  and  verify  its  site.  I  believe  I  was 
successful.  Jutting  out  eastward  from  the  plateau  on  which 
I  stood  is  a  lower  ridge,  having  deep  glens  on  all  sides, 
except  where  it  joins  the  mountain.  Over  its  whole  summit 
I  found  traces  of  very  ancient  ruins,  with  cisterns  and  caves 
such  as  exist  on  the  sites  of  all  mountain  cities  in  Palestine. 
At  the  eastern  base  are  large  quarries,  and  many  rock-hewn 
tombs.  I  had  no  doubt  then,  and  I  have  none  now,  that 
here  stood  Ai,  “  on  the  east  ”  of  Abraham’s  camping  ground 
and  altar. 

The  capture  of  Ai  forms  one  of  the  romantic  episodes  in 
Jewish  history.  The  first  assault  was  unsuccessful,  and  the 
little  army  was  driven  back  in  confusion  (Josh.  vii.  4,  5). 
The  second  was  more  skilfully  planned,  and  had  the  sanc¬ 
tion  of  the  God  of  battles.  North-west  of  Ai,  between  it 
and  Bethel,  is  a  little  rocky  glen ;  and  in  this,  during  the 
night,  five  thousand  chosen  Israelites  were  placed  in  am¬ 
bush  (Josh.  viii.  9,  12).  Joshua  and  the  main  body  took 
up  a  position  on  the  commanding  ridge  north  of  the  city, 
separated  from  it  by  a  deep  valley  (ver.  11).  In  the  morn¬ 
ing,  before  it  was  yet  light,  he  advanced  into  the  valley,  as 
if  to  attack  the  fortifications  in  front  (ver.  13).  The  first 
dawn  revealed  him  to  the  watchful  foe,  who  immediately, 
leaving  Ai  in  force,  charged  impetuously  down  the  hill 
(ver.  14).  The  Israelites  gave  way  “  as  if  they  were  beat¬ 
en,  and  fled  by  the  way  of  the  wilderness,” — down  the  wild 
mountain  defiles  towards  Jericho  (ver.  15).  It  was  a  feint, 
and  it  succeeded.  The  whole  population  of  the  city  rushed 
out  in  pursuit  (ver.  16).  Just  then,  in  obedience  to  the 
command  of  God,  and,  doubtless,  in  accordance  with  a 


180 


JERUSALEM  AND  ITS  ENVIRONS. 


preconcerted  signal,  Joshua  standing  on  some  prominent 
rock  or  cliff*,  “  stretched  out  the  spear  that  he  had  in  his 
hand  toward  the  city.  And  the  ambush  arose  quickly  out 
of  their  place,  and  they  ran,  and  they  entered  the  city,  and 
hasted,  and  set  the  city  on  fire.  And  when  the  men  of  Ai 
looked  behind  them,  they  saw,  and,  behold,  the  smoke  of 
the  city  ascended  up  to  heaven,  and  they  had  no  power  to 
flee  this  way  or  that  way”  (ver.  19,  20).  They  were  com¬ 
pletely  paralyzed.  All  were  put  to  the  sword,  and  Ai  was 
razed  to  the  ground. 

Some  centuries  later  Ai  appears  to  have  been  rebuilt ;  but 
it  is  now,  and  has  been  for  a  thousand  years,  a  desolate 
ruin. 


MICHMASH. 

Much  pleased  with  the  result  of  my  visit  to  the  site  of 
Ai,  I  rode  down  the  rocky  glen  through  which  the  Israelites 
fled,  and  then  over  bare  undulating  table-land  to  Michmash, 
one  of  the  ancient  strongholds  of  Benjamin.  My  chief  ob¬ 
ject  now  was  to  inspect  the  scene  of  Jonathan’s  singular 
and  successful  adventure.  The  village  stands  near  the 
summit  of  a  ridge  which  descends  in  rugged  banks  and 
broken  cliffs  to  a  deep  valley.  On  the  south  side  of  the 
valley  is  a  corresponding  ridge,  crowned  by  the  buildings 
and  ruins  of  the  ancient  Geba — about  a  mile  distant,  and  in 
full  view  from  Michmash.  Half  a  mile  further  down  east¬ 
ward  the  valley  contracts  into  a  ravine,  with  high  naked 
cliffs  on  each  side ;  and  above  the  cliff  toward  Michmash 
are  a  few  acres  of  table-land.  Riding  down  to  this  spot, 
and  examining  the  features  of  the  glen,  the  cliffs,  and  the 
opposite  ridges,  I  felt  convinced  that  here  was  the  scene  of 
Jonathan’s  exploit. 

The  Israelites  under  Saul  were  in  Geba,  and  the  Philis¬ 
tine  army  held  Michmash  (1  Sam.  xiii.  14).  The  Philistines, 
resolving  to  force  the  pass,  left  the  town  and  advanced  to 
the  edge  of  the  ravine  (ver.  23).  The  Israelites,  few  in 


BATTLE  OF  MICHMASH. 


181 


number  and  dispirited  by  long  oppression  (ver.  19-22)  re¬ 
treated  t3  Migron,  near  Gibeah  of  Saul  (xiv.  2).  Jonathan, 
seeing  the  harassed  state  of  his  country,  and  the  despair  of 
his  father’s  troops,  resolved  to  make* a  bold  attempt  to  sur¬ 
prise  the  enemy’s  camp.  The  cause  of  his  sudden  resolve 
and  his  hope  of  success  he  explained  to  his  armour-bearer : — 
“  It  may  be  that  the  Lord  will  work  for  us,  for  there  is  no 
restraint  to  the  Lord  to  save  by  many  or  by  few”  (ver.  6). 
“  Do  all  that  is  in  thine  heart,”  was  the  reply  of  his  devoted 
follower;  ‘‘I  am  with  thee  according  to  thy  heart”  (ver.  7). 
The  nature  of  the  ground  favoured  the  enterprise.  At  the 
point  where  they  had  to  cross  the  ravine,  “  there  was  a  sharp 
cliff  on  the  one  side,  and  a  sharp  cliff  on  the  other”  (ver.  4). 
Stealthily  and  cautiously  they  descended  the  southern  cliff, 
screened  from  view  by  projecting  rocks.  They  then  climbed 
the  north  bank  to  a  place  where,  by  stepping  out  on  some 
projecting  ledge,  they  would  be  in  view  of  the  Philistines, 
and  yet  sufficiently  distant  to  escape  if  requisite.  Advanc¬ 
ing  from  behind  a  crag  they  showed  themselves  to  the 
enemy,  who  naturally  said  to  each  other,  on  seeing  them  so 
close  to  the  camp,  “  Behold  the  Hebrews  come  forth  out  of 
the  holes  where  they  had  hid  themselves.”  “  Come  up  to  us,” 
cried  the  Philistines.  The  desired  omen  was  thus  given  (com¬ 
pare  verses  10, 12).  “  Upon  their  hands  and  upon  their  feet  ” 
these  brave  men  scaled  the  rocks,  and  rushed  upon  the  foe.  A 
sudden  panic  seized  the  whole  host.  The  Lord  fought  for 
Israel.  The  strange  and  unexpected  attack,  and  the  simul¬ 
taneous  shock  of  an  earthquake,  created  such  terror  and 
confusion,  that  the  Philistines  madly  fought  with  each  other 
(ver.  15).  From  the  heights  of  Geba  Saul’s  watchmen  saw 
the  Philistine  army  melting  away;  and  Saul’s  own  ear 
caught  the  din  of  battle  (ver.  16,  19).  Collecting  his  men 
he  crossed  the  pass  and  joined  in  the  slaughter.  Swiftly 
the  tidings  sped  over  hill  and  dale — through  city  and  vil¬ 
lage — “  The  Philistines  flee ;  ”  and  swiftly  the  men  of  Is¬ 
rael  rush  from  cave,  and  rock,  and  stronghold,  and  join  in 


182 


JERUSALEM  AND  ITS  ENVIRONS. 


pursuit  (ver.  21,  22).  The  battle  of  Miohmash  was  the  first 
of  those  fierce  conflicts  carried  on  at  intervals  through  the 
long  reigns  of  Saul  and  David,  and  which  eventually  result¬ 
ed  in  the  final  expulsion  of  the  Philistines  from  the  mount¬ 
ains  of  Israel. 

The  modern  inhabitants  of  Michmash  seem  to  inherit  some¬ 
thing  of  the  fierce  and  predatory  spirit  of  the  Philistines. 
They  dogged  me  wherever  I  went,  muttering  threats  and 
curses,  at  first  asking,  but  in  the  end  demanding  bakhshish. 
I  took  no  notice  of  them  further  than  was  absolutely  ne¬ 
cessary.  When  at  length,  having  finished  my  survey  of  the 
battle-field,  and  a  sketch  of  the  “pass,”  I  mounted  my 
horse  to  go  to  Geba,  they  drew  up  before  me  in  formidable 
array,  and  swore  by  “  the  life  of  the  prophet  ”  I  should 
not  move.  I  insisted,  however,  in  breaking  through  their 
ranks ;  and  fortunately  for  me  their  valour  did  not  go  be¬ 
yond  presenting  a  few  old  muskets  at  my  head,  and  a  noisy 
brandishing  of  swords  and  daggers.  The  goat  track  by 
which  I  had  to  descend  the  glen  bank  was,  perhaps,  quite 
as  dangerous  to  life  and  limb  as  the  lawless  vagabonds  of 
Michmash.  I  have  traversed  many  bad  roads  in  my  Syrian 
wanderings;  I  have  ridden  my  Arab  horse  to  the  very 
highest  peaks  of  Hermon  and  Lebanon ;  but  the  pass  of 
Michmash  was  the  worst  I  had  ever  encountered. 

Geba ,  the  ancient  city  of  Canaan,  the  stronghold  of  Ben¬ 
jamin,  is  now  represented  by  a  few  ruinous  huts,  in  which 
some  half-dozen  families  of  shepherds  find  a  home.  A 
shattered  tower,  and  the  foundations  of  an  old  church,  with 
heaps  of  hewn  stones  and  rubbish,  are  the  only  vestiges  of 
former  greatness.  Standing  there  all  solitary  on  its  bare 
rocky  ridge,  looking  down  over  barren  hills  and  naked  ra¬ 
vines,  upon  the  scathed  valley  of  the  Jordan,  it  is  the  very 
type  of  desolation.  The  curse  has  fallen  heavily  upon 
“  Geba  of  Benjamin.”  When  Elisha  came  up  the  defile 
from  Jericho  to  Bethel,  forests  clothed  the  surrounding 
heights;  now  there  is  not  a  tree  (2  Kings  ii.  24).  Vino- 


ANATHOTH. 


183 


yards  then  covered  the  terraced  sides  of  glen  and  hill,  from 
base  to  summit.  They  have  all  disappeared.  Cities  and 
fortresses,  in  the  days  of  Israel’s  power,  crowned  every  peak 
and  studded  every  ridge ;  shapeless  mounds  now  mark  their 
deserted  sites.  From  the  side  of  Geba  no  less  than  nine 
ruined  towns  and  villages  were  pointed  out  to  me.  How 
wonderfully  have  the  predictions  of  Moses  been  fulfilled ! 
“  I  will  destroy  your  high  places  ....  I  will  make  your 
cities  waste,  and  bring  your  sanctuaries  into  desolation  .... 
And  I  will  bring  the  land  into  desolation ;  and  your  enemies 
which  dwell  therein  shall  be  astonished  at  it  ”  (Lev.  xxvi. 
30-32). 

ANATHOTH. 

Anathoth  is  barely  three  miles  south  of  Geba,  and  yet 
the  road  is  so  bad,  and  the  intervening  glens  so  deep  and 
rugged,  that  I  was  a  full  hour  in  reaching  it.  Were  it  not 
for  its  sacred  associations,  no  man  would  ever  dream  of 
visiting  Anathoth — a  poor  village  of  some  twenty  houses, 
built  among  white  rocks  and  white  ruins,  on  a  bare,  grey 
mountain  side.  Ho  trees,  no  verdure,  no  richness,  or  gran¬ 
deur,  or  beauty ;  and  yet  here,  in  this  ancient  city  of  priests 
(Josh  xxi.  18),  the  prophet  Jeremiah  was  bom  (i.  1). 
Here  he  received  his  first  commission  to  warn  and  threaten 
a  rebellious  nation  (i.  5-19) ;  and  here,  amid  mountain  soli¬ 
tudes  and  rocky  dells,  he  mourned  and  wept  over  the  fore¬ 
seen  calamities  of  his  beloved  country.  When  I  looked 
out  over  that 

“  Barren  desert,  fountainless  and  dry,” 

of  which  Anathoth  commands  a  prospect  wide  and  wild, 
his  words  seemed  filled  with  a  double  power  and  pathos : 
“  Oh  that  my  head  were  waters,  and  mine  eyes  a  fountain 
of  tears,  that  I  might  weep  day  and  night  for  the  slain  of 
the  daughter  of  my  people !  Oh  that  I  had  in  the  wilder¬ 
ness  a  lodging  place  of  wayfaring  men ,  that  I  might  leave 
my  people ,  and  go  from  them  l”  (Jer.  ix.  1,  2.)  One  can 


184 


JERUSALEM  AND  ITS  ENVIRONS. 


trace,  in  nearly  all  the  images  and  illustrations  with  which 
his  writings  abound,  the  influence  of  those  wild  scenes  amid 
which  he  passed  his  boyhood.  Mountains,  rocks,  wild 
beasts,  shepherds,  are  again  and  again  introduced;  and 
when  predicting  the  utter  ruin  of  Israel,  he  says,  with  char¬ 
acteristic  allusion  to  his  home, — “The  spoilers  are  come 
upon  all  high  places  through  the  icilderness ”  (Jer.  xii.  12). 
The  view  from  Anathoth  is  dreary  and  desolate,  but  it  is 
singularly  instructive  to  the  thoughtful  student  of  Jere¬ 
miah’s  prophecies. 

GIBEAH  OF  SAUL. 

Looking  westward  from  the  village,  my  eye  caught  the 
white  top  of  a  conical  hill,  rising  over  an  intervening  ridge. 

“  What  is  the  name  of  that  hill  ?”  I  said  to  an  old  man  at 
my  side.  “  Tuleil  el-F hi,”  he  replied.  Seven  long  hours  I 
had  already  been  in  the  saddle,  under  a  cloudless  sun,  and  I 
had  not  enjoyed  even  for  a  moment  “  the  shadow  of  a  great 
rock  ”  in  that  “  weary  land yet  the  surpassing,  all-absorb¬ 
ing  interest  of  holy  sites  and  holy  associations  made  me  in¬ 
sensible  to  fatigue.  Tuleil  el-Ful,  I  knew,  was  covered  of 
yore  with  the  buildings  of  Gibeah ,  the  city  which,  by  its  ' 
crimes,  brought  such  calamities  on  the  tribe  of  Benjamin 
(Judg.  xix.) ;  which  gave  Israel  its  first  king  (1  Sam.  xi. 

4) ;  and  which  witnessed  the  unparalleled  maternal  tender¬ 
ness  and  devotion  of  poor  bereaved  Kizpah  (2  Sam.  xxi. 
8-11). 

Half  an  hour’s  hard  ride  brought  me  to  its  base,  and  in  a 
few  minutes  more  I  was  on  its  summit.  A  rude  cairn  on 
the  hill-top — a  few  massive  foundations  now  supporting 
little  terraces  along  the  sides — some  scattered  ruins  at  the 
western  base — these  alone  mark  the  site  of  the  royal  city 
of  Benjamin.  Its  very  name  has  long  since  gone,  unless  in¬ 
deed  the  Arabic  Tuleil  (“  little  hill  ”)  be  a  translation  of  the 
Hebrew  Gibeah . 

t  NOB  IDENTIFIED. 

Hiding  towards  Jerusalem,  another  conical  tell  attracted 


JNOB  identified. 


185 


my  attention.  It  is  about  half  a  mile  from  Gibeah.  I 
found  on  its  sides  and  summit  traces  of  a  small  but  very  an¬ 
cient  town ;  cisterns  hewn  in  the  rock,  large  building  stones, 
portions  of  the  hill  levelled  and  cut  away,  and  the  ruins 
of  a  small  tower.  It  commands  a  distinct,  though  distant 
view  of  Mount  Zion ;  Moriah  and  Olivet  being  hid  by  an 
intervening  ridge.  I  felt  convinced  that  this  is  the  site  of 
the  long  lost  Nob;  and  I  here  saw  how  graphic  was  the 
whole  description  of  the  march  of  the  Assyrian  host  upon 
Jerusalem,  as  given  by  Isaiah.  I  had  followed  the  line 
from  Ai ;  and  on  the  top  of  this  tell  I  understood  the  full 
meaning  of  the  last  sentence,  “He  shall  remain  at  Nob  that 
night,  he  shall  shake  his  hand  against  the  mount  of  the 
daughter  of  Zion ,  the  hill  of  Jerusalem”  (Isa.  x.  28-32). 

Between  Nob  and  Gibeah  is  a  deep  retired  vale,  which 
must  have  been  the  scene  of  the  affecting  interview  between 
David  and  Jonathan,  recorded  in  1  Samuel  xx.  David 
seeing  that  his  life  was  threatened  at  the  court  of  Saul, 
went  to  Nob,  got  Goliath’s  sword  from  Ahimelech  the  high 
priest,  and  fled  to  Gath.  David’s  visit  sealed  the  fate  of 
Nob.  A  base  Edomite  betrayed  the  innocent  priest;  and 
when  no  Israelite  dared  to  carry  out  the  savage  commands 
of  a  tyrant  king,  Doeg  proved  a  willing  executioner. 

Ahimelech  and  his  whole  family  were  murdered,  and  “  he 
smote  Nob  with  the  edge  of  the  sword,  both  men  and 
women,  children,  and  sucklings,  and  oxen,  and  asses,  and 
sheep”  (1  Sam.  xxii).  Sitting  on  the  desolate  site  I  read 
the  story  of  that  terrible  massacre ;  and  I  shuddered  as  I 
looked  around  and  saw  the  rocks  once  stained  with  the 
blood  of  the  helpless  victims.  Can  we  wonder  that  Ezekiel 
was  commissioned  to  pronounce  a  curse  upon  Palestine, 
when  he  could  with  such  truth  assign  as  its  cause,  ufor  the 
land  is  full  of  bloody  crimes ”  (vii.  23). 

Another  hour  brought  me  to  my  home  on  Olivet,  and  to 
the  end  of  one  of  the  most  interesting  and  profitable  excur¬ 
sions  I  ever  made  in  Palestine. 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  PHILISTINES. 


Cfr t  ITmttJ  cf  %  l^ilistiras. 


I 


“  Thus  saith  the  Lord  God ;  Behold,  I  will  stretch  out  mine  hand  upon  the  Philistines, 
and  I  will  cut  off  the  Cherethims,  and  destroy  the  remnant  of  the  sea  coast.” — Ezhk. 
xxv.  16. 

E  rode  down  from  Jerusalem  on  Saturday,  hoping 
to  spend  a  quiet  Sunday  in  the  Franciscan  con¬ 
vent  of  Ramleh.  The  good  fathers  received  us 
with  even  more  than  ordinary  hospitality,  and 
quartered  us  in  their  choicest  cells.  They  supplied  our 
table,  too,  with  the  best  their  larder  afforded ;  and  as  we 
were  all  well  inured  to  Eastern  life,  we  were  able  to  enjoy 
the  fare.  In  the  early  part  of  Sunday  we  were  left  alone, 
and  the  deep  silence  of  the  convent  was  most  impressive. 
At  intervals  the  solemn  chant  of  the  Latin  service  in  the 
chapel  swept  through  the  cloistered  courts  and  along  the 
corridors,  now  swelling  forth  in  full  harmony,  now  dying 
away  in  a  plaintive  wail,  and  again  awaking  like  an  -echo. 
In  the  afternoon  an  Italian  monk,  who  had  been  previously 
acquainted  with  one  of  my  companions,  joined  our  party. 
He  had  seen  much  of  the  world,  and  was  a  man  of  polished 
manners  and  extensive  information.  He  seemed  anxious  to 
promote  the  cause  of  education  in  Syria,  but  spoke  despond- 
ingly  of  this  work,  to  which,  he  told  us,  he  had  devoted 
his  life.  His  doubts  and  fears  arose  mainly  from  the  dif- 


190 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  PHILISTINES. 


ficulties  thrown  in  his  way  by  his  superiors,  and  from  the 
limited  means  at  his  command.  After  some  general  con¬ 
versation,  we  all  sat  down  to  read  together  the  various 
passages  of  Scripture  referring  to  Philistia  and  its  old  war¬ 
like  inhabitants. 

The  Philistines,  we  are  told,  were  an  Egyptian  tribe,  de¬ 
scendants  of  Ham,  who,  at  some  unknown  period  before 
the  time  of  Abraham,  left  their  native  country  and  settled 
on  the  southern  coast  of  Canaan.  Singularly  enough, 
though  always  called,  even  by  the  Israelites,  “  strangers,” 
(for  such  is  the  meaning  of  j Philistines,)  they  gave  to  the 
whole  land  the  name  it  bears  to  this  day — Palestine. 
Abraham  and  Isaac  lived  in  peace  with  the  Philistine 
chiefs;  and  though  their  dependants  had  occasional  quar¬ 
rels,  yet  they  fed  their  flocks  on  the  same  pastures  and 
watered  them  at  the  same  wells.  But  in  after  ages  the 
Philistines  became  the  most  determined  foes  of  the  Is¬ 
raelites. 

Philistia  is  the  garden  of  Palestine.  It  is  about  forty 
miles  long  from  Joppa  to  Gaza,  and  about  fifteen  wide  from 
the  Mediterranean  to  the  mountains  of  Judah.  Along  the 
whole  sea-board  are  white  sandy  downs.  Within  these  is 
the  broad  undulating  plain,  with  its  deep  rich  soil,  and  low 
mounds  at  intervals,  over  whose  summits  the  grey  ruins  of 
great  cities  are  now  strewn  in  the  dust.  On  the  east  the 
mountains  send  out  their  roots  far  into  the  plain,  carrying 
with  them  their  rocks,  and  braes ,  and  jungles  of  dwarf  trees 
and  shrubs ;  and  leaving  between  them  picturesque  wind¬ 
ing  vales.  Such  is  Philistia,  the  Shephelah  (“  low  country  ” 
or  “valley”)  of  the  Bible  (2  Chron.  xxvi.  10;  Deut.  i.  7). 
It  is  a  noble  region,  and  it  was  defended  by  its  old  inhabit¬ 
ants  with  a  heroism  and  devotion  which  have  been  rarely 
equalled.  The  Philistine  warriors  could  dash  across  the 
unbroken  plains  in  their  chariots  of  iron,  and  drive  all  their 
foes  before  them ;  but  the  moment  they  attempted  to  pene¬ 
trate  the  mountain  defiles  they  were  overmatched  by  the 


WALK  TO  LYDDA. 


191 


active  Jewish  infantry.  The  physical  character  of  these 
neighbouring  countries  solves  the  mystery  of  the  long, 
fierce,  and  undecided  struggles  of  the  two  nations. 

We  were  deep  in  our  studies,  and  were  becoming  rapidly 
more  and  more  interested  in  the  stories  of  Samson,  the  cap¬ 
ture  of  the  ark,  and  David  and  Goliath,  when  suddenly  the 
silence  that  reigned  around  us  was  broken  by  a  straggling 
fire  of  musketry  in  the  distance.  It  came  nearer.  The  roll 
of  kettle-drums  was  next  heard,  at  first  faintly,  but  growing 
each  moment  louder  and  clearer,  till  at  length  the  ringing 
shots  and  warlike  music  seemed  beneath  the  convent  walls. 
Then  there  was  a  hurrying  to  and  fro,  and  banging  of 
doors,  followed  by  polyglot  shoutings.  The  monk  started 
up  in  manifest  alarm,  and  rushed  out.  We  all  followed, 
supposing  the  Bedawin  were  making  a  sudden  raid.  On 
gaining  the  terraced  roof,  which  commanded  a  view  of  the 
great  gate,  we  discovered  the  cause  of  all  the  din  and  bus¬ 
tle  :  a  Roman  Archbishop  was  on  his  way  to  the  Holy  City, 
escorted  by  a  troop  of  irregular  cavalry,  who  showed  alike 
the  importance  of  their  trust  and  their  reverence  for  the 
Sabbath  by  making  as  much  noise  as  their  guns  and  drums 
were  capable  of.  Unfortunately  for  our  peace,  his  Emi¬ 
nence  resolved  to  pass  the  night  at  Ramleh.  To  escape  for 
a  time  from  the  tumult,  I  proposed  a  walk  over  to  Lydda, 
and  my  companions  gladly  acquiesced. 

LYDDA. 

The  sun  was  already  low  in  the  west  when  we  entered 
the  broad  avenue-like  road  that  leads  to  Lydda.  It  was  a 
beautiful  evening — the  sky  cloudless,  the  atmosphere  trans¬ 
parent  as  crystal.  The  sunbeams  fell  slanting  on  the  dense 
foliage  of  the  orange  and  apricot  trees,  here  gilding  the 
topmost  leaves,  and  yonder  shooting  in  lines  of  gold  through 
the  openings.  The  sea  breeze  was  just  setting  in.  Row  it 
played  among  the  rustling  branches  of  the  tall  palms,  and 
now  it  seemed  to  come  down  for  a  moment  and  breathe  its 
9 


192 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  PHILISTINES. 


balmy  breath  in  our  faces.  The  road,  covered  deeply  with 
red  sand,  is  lined  with  orchards,  in  which  we  saw  orange, 
lemon,  peach,  pomegranate,  and  carub  trees,  intermixed 
with  the  palm,  walnut,  and  sycamore ;  and  the  whole  en¬ 
closed  by  huge  hedges  of  cactus,  whose  luscious  fruit, 
clinging  quaintly  to  the  sides  of  the  great  thick  leaves,  was 
now  almost  ripe.  An  easy  walk  of  three-quarters  of  an 
hour  brought  us  to  Ludd ,  the  modern  as  well  as  the  more 
ancient  name  of  the  apostolic  Lydda  (1  Chron.  viii.  12).  I 
have  often  been  sadly  disappointed  on  approaching  an  old 
Bible  city,  which  fancy  had  somehow  decked  in  the  choic¬ 
est  beauties  of  nature  and  art,  but  which  reality  transformed 
into  mud  hovels  on  a  rocky  hill-side.  It  was  not  so  with 
Lydda.  Even  now,  though  its  glory  is  gone,  Lydda  has  an 
imposing  look.  It  is  embowered  in  verdure.  Olive  groves 
encircle  it,  and  stretch  far  out  over  the  surrounding  plain, 
and  their  dusky  hue  is  relieved  here  and  there  by  the 
brighter  foliage  of  the  apricot  and  mulberry ;  while,  near 
the  houses,  vines  are  seen  creeping  over  garden  walls  and 
clambering  up  the  great  gnarled  trunks  and  branches  of 
the  walnut  trees. 

The  village  stands  on  a  gentle  eminence,  and  high  above 
its  terraced  roofs  rise  the  splendid  ruins  of  England’s  pa¬ 
tron  saint.  Lydda,  tradition  says,  was  the  native  place  of 
St.  George ;  and  England’s  chivalrous  king,  the  lion-hearted 
Richard,  built  in  his  honour  this  noble  church,  the  ruins  of 
which  now  form  the  chief  attraction  of  Ludd.  The  walls 
and  part  of  the  groined  roof  of  the  chancel  still  remain,  and 
also  one  lofty  pointed  arch,  with  its  massive  clustered  col¬ 
umns  and  white  marble  capitals,  rich  in  carving  and  fret¬ 
work. 

We  climbed  to  the  top  of  the  crumbling  wall,  and  there 
sat  down  to  read  the  story  of  Peter’s  visit  to  this  place 
(Acts  ix.  32-39).  The  whole  village  was  in  full  view,  and 
the  great  plain  around  it.  Peter  was  away  on  one  of  his 
missionary  tours  in  the  hill  country  of  Samaria,  “  and  he 


peter's  miracle  at  lydda. 


193 


came  down  also  to  the  saints  which  dwelt  at  Lydda.”  He 
came  down  through  the  defiles  of  those  mountains,  and 
across  that  broad  rich  plain  of  Sharon,  or  “  Saron,”  and  up 
the  gentle  ascent  to  this  old  town.  The  saints  met  him  as 
he  entered,  and  told  him  of  the  sufferings  of  poor  paralytic 
Eneas ;  and  the  scene  then  enacted  at  his  bed-side  was  such 
as  the  people  had  never  before  witnessed.  “Peter  said 
unto  him,  Eneas,  Jesus  Christ  maketh  thee  whole;  arise  and 
make  thy  bed.  And  he  arose  immediately.”  As  the  words 
reached  his  ears,  divine  power  operated  on  his  body.  The 
wondrous  tidings  sped  from  mouth  to  mouth,  from  group  to 
group,  from  town  to  country.  All  eagerly  inquired ;  some 
probably  at  first  doubted,  but  when  they  saw  the  healed 
paralytic,  faith  triumphed,  and  “  all  that  dwelt  in  Lydda 
and  Saron  turned  to  the  Lord.”  The  joyful  news  soon 
found  its  way  to  Joppa,  ten  miles  distant;  and  then  the 
mourning  friends  of  the  charitable  Tabitha  despatched  quick 
messengers  to  tell  Peter  of  her  death,  half  hoping  that  even 
she  might  not  be  beyond  the  reach  of  his  power.  Peter 
delayed  not,  but  set  out  across  that  western  plain  on  another 
journey  of  mercy.  # 

As  we  looked  from  our  commanding  position  over  that 
wide  landscape,  we  could  not  but  admit  that  there  was  a 
charm  in  it  independent  of  all  its  hallowed  associations.  It 
was  one  of  those  views  which,  like  a  picture  by  Claude, 
never  pass  from  the  memory.  On  the  north  lay  the  vast 
plain  of  Sharon,  variegated  with  green  meadows  and  yel¬ 
low  corn-fields ;  for,  though  only  the  end  of  April,  the  fields 
were  “  already  white  to  the  harvest.”  In  the  far  distance 
we  could  just  distinguish  the  pale  blue  summits  of  Carmel. 
On  the  east,  the  view  was  bounded  by  the  long  range  of 
the  mountains  of  Israel,  their  rounded  tops  now  tinged  with 
the  ruddy  evening  light ;  and  the  deep  purple  shadows  of 
their  ravines  throwing  out  in  bold  relief  the  old  ruined 
cities  and  modern  villages  that  crown  nearly  all  the  pro¬ 
jecting  cliffs.  On  the  south,  a  swell  in  the  plain  concealed 


194 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  PHILISTINES. 


Philistia ;  but  that  swell  was  clothed  with  the  orchards  of 
Ramleh,  whose  tapering  minarets  and  tall  white  tower 
shoot  up  from  the  midst  of  the  dense  foliage.  On  the  west, 
beyond  the  gardens,  there  was  first  a  stretch  of  brown 
sandy  plain ;  then  a  narrow  dark  belt,  traced  by  the  orange 
groves  of  Joppa ;  and  then  the  Mediterranean,  gleaming  like 
a  mirror  of  burnished  gold  beneath  the  setting  sun. 

On  Monday  morning,  before  the  sun  had  yet  risen  over 
Judah’s  hills,  we  were  all  in  the  saddle,  following  a  gay 
trooper,  bristling  with  arms,  along  the  broad  sandy  road  to 
Philistia.  Selim,  our  new  companion,  was  to  fill  the  double 
post  of  guide  and  guard :  and  he  was  admirably  qualified 
for  office ;  for  he  knew  the  name  of  every  village,  fountain, 
and  wady  between  Ramleh  and  Gaza ;  and  he  was  on 
terms  of  close  friendship  with  all  the  bandits  in  the  prov¬ 
ince.  Our  route  was  at  first  dreary  enough,  traversing 
bleak  downs  of  brown  sand,  over  which  a  few  flocks  of  sheep 
and  goats  followed  their  shepherds,  apparently  bound  for 
better  pastures.  But  the  morning,  as  usual,  was  bright  and 
beautiful,  the  air  fresh  and  exhilarating,  and  Selim  full  of 
tales  of  border  raids,  and  old  traditions  about  Samson  and 
Jalud  (Goliath) ;  so  we  got  on  cheerily.  An  hour’s  ride 
brought  us  to  the  top  of  the  swell  which  separates  Sharon 
from  Philistia.  The  latter  plain  now  opened  up  before  us, 
rolling  away  to  the  southern  horizon  in  graceful  undula¬ 
tions,  clothed  with  a  rich  mantle  of  green  and  gold — har¬ 
vest-field,  and  pasture-land.  Ruins  were  visible  every¬ 
where  ;  but  the  villages  were  few,  small,  and  far  between. 
The  distant  hill-sides  were  more  thickly  studded  with  them ; 
and  Selim  told  us  that  though,  like  the  old  Danites,  the 
people  lived  there  for  security,  their  possessions  and  crops 
were  chiefly  in  the  plain. 

EKRON. 

Aklr  soon  came  in  sight ;  and  a  quarter  of  an  hour’s  gal¬ 
lop  along  a  beaten  path,  through  fields  of  corn,  brought  us 
to  the  village.  We  dismounted,  and  sat  down  beside  the 


EKRON. 


195 


only  antiquity  of  the  place,  a  large  deep  well ;  such  a  well, 
probably,  as  the  servants  of  Abraham  dug  at  Gerar  and 
Beersheba  in  olden, times.  A  crowd  of  villagers  collected 
to  gaze  at  the  strangers.  The  men  were  chiefly  conspicu¬ 
ous  for  the  huge  daggers  in  their  girdles,  and  their  enor¬ 
mous  turbans,  which  seemed  out  of  all  proportion  with  the 
rest,  of  their  scanty  wardrobe.  The  women  were  in  rags, 
and  most  of  the  children  stark  naked.  Akir  is  a  wretched 
village,  containing  some  forty  or  fifty  mud  hovels ;  its  nar¬ 
row  lanes  encumbered  with  heaps  of  rubbish  and  filth.  It 
stands  on  a  bare  slope,  and  the  ground  immediately  around 
it  has  a  dreary  and  desolate  look,  heightened  by  a  few 
stunted  trees  scattered  here  and  there  round  the  houses. 
Yet  this  is  all  that  marks  the  site  and  bears  the  name  of 
the  royal  city  of  Ekron.  There  is  not  a  solitary  vestige  of 
royalty  there  now.  With  feelings  which  it  would  be  dif¬ 
ficult  to  describe,  we  took  out  our  Bibles,  and  read  the  doom 
pronounced  upon  it  by  the  Hebrew  prophet  while  it  yet 
stood  in  all  the  pride  of  its  strength  and  beauty :  “  Ekron 
shall  be  rooted  up  ”  (Zeph.  ii.  4). 

We  read  also  the  interesting  narrative  of  the  restoration 
of  the  ark  to  the  Israelites,  when  it  was  conveyed  on  the 
new  cart  from  Ekron  to  Beth-shemesh,  (1.  Sam.  vi.)  The 
position  of  the  latter  city  was  pointed  out  to  us  by  Selim. 
It  is  beautifully  situated  in  the  side  of  the  deep  valley  of 
Surar,  the  ancient  Sorek,  a  short  distance  above  the  place 
where  it  opens  from  the  mountains  of  Judah  into  the  plain. 
It  is  about  ten  miles  from  Ekron,  and  a  broad  vale,  or 
rather  depression,  winds  down  from  it  to  the  Mediterranean. 
On  the  northern  slope  of  this  vale  Ekron  stands.  Up  that 
vale  ran  the  ancient  highway,  “  straight  to  Beth-shemesh,” 
along  which  went  the  “  lowing  kine,”  bearing  the  ark,  and 
“turned  not  aside  to  the  right  hand  nor  to  the  left.”  It 
was  just  about  this  season  of  the  year  too;  for  the  “men 
of  Beth-shemesh  were  reaping  their  wheat-harvest  in  the 
valley  ” — that  very  valley  of  Surar  which  now  waved  with 


196 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  PHILISTINES. 


ripening  grain.  The  chiefs  of  the  Philistines  followed  the 
ark  to  the  border  of  Beth-shemesh — that  is,  to  the  foot  of 
the  mountains;  and  there,  having  given  up  their  charge, 
“they  returned  to  Ekron  the  same  day.”  We  were  all 
deeply  impressed  with  the  simplicity  and,  at  the  same  time, 
graphic  power  of  the  narrative. 

Again  we  mounted,  .and  led  by  our  active  guide,  struck 
at  a  dashing  pace  down  the  gentle  slope,  then  diagonally 
across  the  meadows  and  wheat-fields  of  Wady  Surar.  The 
sun  was  already  high  in  the  heavens,  and  not  a  cloud  as 
large  as  a  man’s  hand  to  shade  us  from  his  fierce  beams. 
The  rainy  season  was  past  in  the  low  plain  of  Philistia.  A 
single  cloud  would  now  have  been  looked  on  as  a  wonder ; 
and  as  for  a  shower,  the  peasants  would  have  been  as  much 
terrified  at  it  as  the  Israelites  were,  when,  in  answer  to  the 
prayer  of  Samuel,  the  Lord  “  sent  thunder  and  rain  ”  in  the 
time  of  wheat-harvest  (1  Sam.  xii.  lY).  Through  the  cen¬ 
tre  of  the  wady,  deeply  furrowed  in  the  alluvial  soil,  winds 
the  torrent-bed  of  the  Sorek,  already  dry,  except  here  and 
there  where  water  lay  stagnant  in  little  pools,  half  con¬ 
cealed  by  the  dark  foliage  and  gorgeous  flowers  of  the 
oleander.  The  rivers  of  this  southern  land  are  mere  win¬ 
ter  torrents ;  the  summer’s  sun  dries  them  up,  scorching  the 
reeds,  and  rank  grass,  and  bright  flowers  of  early  spring ; 
just  as  Isaiah  describes  it :  “  The  river  shall  be  wasted  and 
dried  up ;  the  reeds  and  flags  shall  wither.  The  paper 
reeds  by  the  brooks,  by  the  mouth  of  the  brooks,  and  every¬ 
thing  sown  by  the  brooks,  shall  wither,  be  driven  away, 
and  be  no  more”  (Isa.  xix.  5-7).  But  when  the  autumn 
rain  falls,  the  streams  return  to  their  beds,  and  the  waters 
flow  murmuring  over  the  pebbles,  and  the  dead  plants 
burst  forth  into  new  life  and  verdure.  How  beautiful  the 
prayer,  and  how  appropriate  the  allusion  of  the  Psalmist : — 

“  As  streams  of  water  in  the  south, 

Our  bondage,  Lord,  recall.” — (Ps.  cxxvi.  4). 

Skirting  the  base  of  a  low  limestone  ridge  we  opened  up 


PATRIARCHAL  CUSTOMS. 


197 


the  plain  of  Yebna,  extending  away  on  the  right  to  the 
shores  of  the  Mediterranean, — almost  as  smooth  as  the  sur¬ 
face  of  the  sea  itself,  and  having  a  little  hill,  like  an  island 
in  the  centre,  covered  in  part  with  the  ruins  of  ancient 
Jabneh  (2  Chron.  xxvi.  6),  and  in  part  with  the  humble 
houses  of  its  modern  representative ;  in  part,  too,  with  the 
remains  of  a  crusader’s  church.  The  plain  was  all  astir 
with  bands  of  reapers,  men  and  women ;  and  close  behind 
them  the  gleaners,  mostly  young  girls,  reminding  one  of  the 
faithful  Ruth.  The  great  proprietors  were  there  too,  mov¬ 
ing  about,  like  Boaz,  from  field  to  field  amons:  their  labour- 
ers,  clad  in  their  scarlet  cloaks.  As  we  passed  each  group 
Selim  saluted  them  with  an  JJllah  makum , — “  The  Lord  be 
with  you ;  ”  and  they  returned  the  invariable  response, 
“The  Lord  bless  thee.”  Not  only  are  the  manners  and 
customs  unchanged  in  this  land,  but  the  very  words  of  salu¬ 
tation  are  what  they  were  three  thousand  years  ago  (Ruth 
ii.  3,  4.) 

Leaving  this  low-lying  plain  we  ascended  the  bleak 
downs,  where  vast  flocks  of  sheep  and  camels  were  brows¬ 
ing  ;  and  away  on  our  left,  nearly  a  mile  distant,  we  saw 
the  black  tents  of  their  Arab  owners.  They  saw  us  also ; 
and  a  party  of  ten  or  twelve  splendidly  mounted  came  upon 
us  at  full  gallop,  their  spears  glittering  in  the  sunbeams,  and 
their  braided  hair  and  flowing  robes  streaming  behind  them. 
Selim  rode  out  to  meet  them,  and  I  followed  to  hear  the 
parley.  Before  a  word  was  spoken,  Selim  and  the  Arab 
chief  threw  themselves  from  their  horses  and  joined  in  a 
cordial  embrace.  The  sight  was  not  new  to  me,  yet  it  was 
most  interesting.  Each  rested  his  hands  upon  the  shoulder 
of  the  other,  and  laid  his  head  upon  his  neck ;  or,  to  use  the 
expressive  words  of  Scripture,  “  He  fell  on  his  neck ,  and 
kissed  him”  (Gen.  xxvii.  33).  We  were  now  invited,  and 
pressed  with  genuine  Arab  warmth  to  go  to  the  camp.  “  O 
my  lords,”  said  the  chief,  addressing  us,  “  pass  not  away,  I 
pray  you,  from  your  servant.  The  sun  is  high ;  the  day  is 


196 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  PHILISTINES. 


hot ;  honour  his  house  with  your  presence ;  let  him  kill  a 
sheep,  and  set  bread  before  you,  and  then  depart  in  peace.” 
We  respectfully  declined,  pleading  the  distance  we  had  yet 
to  ride,  and  the  absence  of  our  servants.  Amid  all  their 
wildness  and  waywardness,  a  hospitality  worthy  of  the  old 
patriarchs  is  still  practised  by  these  sons  of  the  desert.  I 
have  narrated  the  incident,  and  accurately  translated  the 
language  used,  because  it  illustrates  such  passages  as  Gen. 
xviii.,  and  xix.  2. 

ASHDOD. 

On  approaching  Ashdod  we  were  all  charmed  with  the 
beauty  of  the  site,  and  the  wonderful  richness  of  the  coun¬ 
try  immediately  around  it.  We  had  left  the  line  of  the 
great  caravan  road  to  Gaza  and  Egypt,  and  had  turned 
into  a  beaten  track  leading  straight  to  the  village.  It 
crosses  a  vale,  some  three  miles  wide,  and  extending  far  to 
the  eastward ; — perfectly  level,  and  one  unbroken  expanse 
of  golden  corn,  the  richest  I  had  anywhere  seen  in  Pales¬ 
tine,  rivalling  even  the  best  parts  of  Bashan.  There  was 
not  a  fence,  nor  tree,  nor  house  upon  it.  Our  path  was 
bordered  by  the  tall  ripe  grain ;  and  our  attendants  plucked 
the  ears  as  they  rode  along,  “  and  did  eat,  rubbing  them  in 
their  hands”  (Luke  vi.  1).  We  could  here  see  how  true  to 
nature  was  the  illustration  in  the  parable  of  the  sower, — 
“ And  as  he  sowed ,  some  fell  by  the  wayside  ”  (Mark  iv.  4). 
When  the  husbandman  sows  such  fields  as  these,  some 
seeds  must  necessarily  fall  upon  the  unfenced,  beaten 
tracks,  which  traverse  them  in  every  direction. 

The  plain  sweeps  the  northern  base  of  the  low,  rounded 
hill  on  which  once  stood  the  royal  city  of  Ashdod.  The 
temples,  palaces,  and  houses  are  all  gone.  The  dust  of 
centuries  has  covered  them.  Terraced  orchards  of  figs  and 
olives,  apricots  and  pomegranates,  now  occupy  their  places, 
clothing  the  hill-side  from  base  to  summit.  The  modem 
village  of  Esdud ,  a  confused  group  of  mud  hovels,  lies  em 
bowered  on  the  eastern  slope.  It  bears  the  ancient  name ; 


DESOLATION  OF  ASHDOD. 


1 93 


but  we  might  truly  change  it  to  Ichabod,  for  its  glory  is 
departed. 

We  rode  to  it  through  winding  lanes,  hedged  with  the 
giant  cactus,  round  whose  shapeless  stems,  and  quaint 
branches  and  leaves,  the  convolvulus  and  honeysuckle  had 
woven  garlands  of  bright  flowers.  The  village  is  wretched 
in  the  extreme.  Groups  of  hungry-looking  men  and  squalid 
women  lounged  lazily  in  the  dirty  lanes,  and  on  the  dusty 
roofs,  gazing  listlessly  on  the  strangers,  and  scarcely  able 
to  muster  energy  enough  to  curse  the  infidel  Frank.  As 
we  looked  on  them  and  their  miserable  dwellings,  the  words 
of  Zechariah  flashed  upon  our  memory :  “  A  bastard  shall 
dwell  in  Ashdod,  and  I  will  cut  off  the  pride  of  the  Philis¬ 
tines.”  We  climbed  to  the  top  of  the  hill.  The  temple  of 
Dagon,  in  which  the  ark  of  the  Lord  was  put,  must  have 
stood  here ;  for  the  sea  is  visible,  and  Dagon,  “  the  fish 
god,”  was  doubtless  placed  where  he  could  look  out  over 
the  element  he  was  supposed  to  personify.  Not  a  vestige 
of  the  temple  is  there  now.  Along  the  southern  declivity 
old  building  stones,  with  fragments  of  columns  and  sculp¬ 
tured  capitals,  are  piled  up  in  the  fences  of  little  fields,  and 
in  the  walls  of  goat  and  sheep  pens,  showing  how  time,  and 
God’s  unchangeableness,  have  converted  prophecy  into  his¬ 
tory  :  “  And  the  sea-coast  shall  be  dwellings  and  cottages 
for  shepherds,  and  folds  for  flocks” 

How  sad,  and  yet  how  glorious  is  the  view  from  the  top 
of  that  hill,  beneath  which  the  dust  of  a  mighty  city  lies 
dishonoured !  On  the  one  side  the  noble  plain,  stretching 
away  to  the  foot  of  Judah’s  mountains,  here  and  there  cul¬ 
tivated,  but  mostly  neglected  and  desolate,  yet  all  naturally 
rich  as  in  the  palmiest  days  of  Philistia’s  power.  On  the 
other  side  a  dreary,  hopeless  waste  of  drifting  sand,  washed 
away  yonder  by  the  waves  of  the  Mediterranean,  and  here, 
at  our  feet,  advancing  with  slow  and  silent,  but  resistless 
step,  covering,  and  to  cover,  flower  and  tree,  ancient  ruin 
and  modern  hut,  in  one  common  tomb. 


200 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  PHILISTINES. 


II. 

«  0  thou  sword  of  the  Lord,  how  long  will  it  be  ere  thou  be  quiet?  Put  up  thyself  into 
thy  scabbard,  rest,  and  be  still.  How  can  it  be  quiet,  seeing  the  Lord  hath  given 
it  a  charge  against  Ashkelon,  and  against  the  sea  shore  ?  There  hath  he  appointed 
if” — Jer.  xlvii.  6,  7. 

We  descended  the  hill  of  Ashdod,  our  horses  leaping 
lightly  as  mountain  goats  from  terrace  to  terrace,  spurning 
the  dust  of  the  royal  city,  their  iron  hoofs  ever  and  anon 
ringing  upon  fragments  of  broken  pillars  and  sculptured 
stones.  At  the  southern  base  of  the  hill,  beside  a  minia¬ 
ture  lake,  are  the  walls  of  an  old  khan ,  and  near  it  a  dilap¬ 
idated  mosque.  Beside  the  latter  lies  a  richly  carved  sar¬ 
cophagus  of  white  marble,  long  ago  opened  and  rifled. 
Here  squatted  a  dervish — a  dirty,  ragged,  miserable 
wretch — mumbling  his  senseless  prayers  to  Allah,  telling 
his  beads,  and  swaying  his  body  to  and  fro.  He  never 
turned  his  head  nor  moved  a  muscle  as  we  rode  up  to  him, 
but  continued  to  look  with  a  dreamy,  vacant  stare  on  the 
roofless  khan,  shattered  mosque,  and  ruin-strewn  site.  He 
might  have  passed  for  the  genius  of  Ashdod  as  he  sat  thus 
on  the  broken  coffin.  We  saluted  him,  and  he  started  as 
if  awakened  from  sleep.  He  entered  freely  into  conversa¬ 
tion,  and  showed  far  more  intelligence  and  knowledge  than 
we  could  have  given  him  credit  for.  He  told  us  some  le¬ 
gends  of  Ashdod’s  ancient  glory,  strangely  mixing  up  in 
them  the  names  of  Daud,  Suleiman,  Jalfrd  (Goliath),  and 
Mohammed.  We  listened  with  interest  to  his  stories  as  we 
took  our  mid-day  rest  beneath  the  shade  of  a  mulberry  tree. 
It  was  pleasing  to  hear  incidents  of  Scripture  history — dis¬ 
torted  and  exaggerated  though  they  were — from  the  lips 
of  this  wild  Moslem  fanatic.  Dervishes  are  a  privileged 
class  in  the  East ;  half  madmen  half  saints,  they  are  wel¬ 
comed  everywhere  as  the  special  favourites  of  Heaven ;  they 
have  free  access  to  every  house,  and  never  want  for  food  or 
lodging.  I  have  seen  a  Turkish  pasha  descend  from  his 


A  DERVISH. 


201 


place  and  kiss  the  hand  of  a  dervish  who  had  wandered  into 
his  council  chamber ;  and  when  the  mother  of  the  late  Sul¬ 
tan  joined  the  pilgrim  caravan  to  Mecca,  the  train  of  gran¬ 
dees  that  escorted  her  out  of  Damascus  was  led  by  a  der¬ 
vish,  stark  naked,  mounted  on  a  gorgeously  caparisoned 
charger,  and  attended  by  four  grooms  in  the  royal  livery ! 
The  clothes  of  these  unfortunates,  when  they  wear  any,  are 
always  in  tatters,  and  their  persons  and  habits  are  disgust¬ 
ingly  filthy.  As  I  sat  and  looked  at  this  squalid  dervish 
amid  the  ruins  of  Ashdod,  and  as  I  reflected  on  the  privi¬ 
leges  enjoyed  by  his  class,  in  ancient  as  well  as  modern 
times,  I  was  strongly  reminded  of  that  romantic  episode  in 
the  life  of  Kino-  David  when  he  took  refuge  in  another  of 
Philistia’s  royal  cities.  He  thought  he  might  have  es¬ 
caped  unnoticed ;  but  he  was  recognised  at  once  as  the  con¬ 
queror  of  Goliath.  His  fate  appeared  to  be  sealed.  But 
“  he  feigned  himself  mad  in  their  hands ;  ”  he  “  scrabbled  on 
the  doors  of  the  gate,  and  let  his  spittle  fall  down  upon 
his  beard ,” — he  acted  the  dervish,  in  fact;  he  acted  well; 
and  his  acting  saved  his  life  (1  Sam.  xxi.  11-15). 

An  hour’s  gallop  over  bleak  sandy  downs,  affording  oc¬ 
casional  glimpses  of  the  bright  sea  on  the  right,  brought  us 
to  the  little  village  of  Hamameli.  The  olive  groves  that 
encircle  it  are  fringed  with  vineyards,  now  fresh  and  beau¬ 
tiful  in  their  new  and  delicate  foliage.  We  pressed  our 
panting  steeds  along  winding  lanes,  hedged  with  giant  cac¬ 
tus,  and  shaded  with  dusky  olives.  Here  again  hedges  and 
trees  were  all  wreathed  with  convolvulus  of  every  colour, 
while  the  vineyards,  meadows,  and  corn-fields  behind 
blushed  with  poppies  and  anemones.  It  was  a  lovely  scene, 
and  after  the  burning  sandy  downs,  and  the  sun-scorched 
plains,  we  thought  it  a  paradise : — The  hedges  so  trim ; 
the  olive-shade  so  dense ;  the  young  vine  shoots  so  green ; 
the  flowers  so  gay;  the  fields  of  melons  and  cucumbers 
so  neat ;  the  grain  so  wonderfully  luxuriant.  Here,  we 
thought,  at  least  the  curse  has  not  fallen  on  Philistia.  A 


202 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  PHILISTINES. 


sharp  turn  in  the  road  suddenly  and  sadly  dispelled  thia 
pleasing  delusion.  Close  on  the  right  now  rose  mounds  of 
drifting  sand.  We  could  see  that  they  are  advancing, — 
slowly,  steadily,  —  burying  everything  in  their  course. 
Fields  of  wheat,  sown  only  a  few  months  ago,  were  already 
partly  covered.  Vineyards  were  all  but  obliterated ; — here 
and  there  a  topmost  branch,  still  retaining  its  foliage,  waved 
over  its  own  tomb.  Further  back,  traces  of  olive  groves, 
some  of  the  larger  trees  standing  in  great  bowls  of  sand, 
their  trunks  embedded,  but  the  motion  of  the  branches  and 
the  sweep  of  the  wind  beneath  their  foliage,  had  as  yet 
kept  the  top  free.  Their  graves  were  already  made,  how¬ 
ever,  and  their  days  were  numbered.  Others  had  only  just 
been  covered  up,  and  two  or  three  green  twigs  projecting 
from  the  smooth  sand-mounds  marked  their  places. 

It  was  a  melancholy  sight.  It  impressed  me  more  deeply 
than  anything  I  had  ever  seen.  One  is  in  some  degree  pre¬ 
pared  for  ruined  palace  and  temple,  desolate  city  and  vil¬ 
lage.  Man’s  proudest  works  are  still  perishable ;  but  the 
face,  the  features,  the  resources  of  nature  are  generally  sup¬ 
posed  to  be  permanent.  We  rode  on,  gazing  and  wonder¬ 
ing,  our  horses  sinking  deep  at  every  footstep  into  the  soft, 
tine  sand.  Then  taking  out  my  Bible,  I  could  not  refrain 
from  reading  to  my  companions  the  strange  and  terrible 
doom  pronounced  on  this  country  by  the  Hebrew  prophet 
five-and-twenty  centuries  ago: — “Woe  unto  the  inhabitants 
of  the  sea-coasts  !  the  word  of  the  Lord  is  against  you ;  O 
Canaan,  the  land  of  the  Philistines,  I  will  even  destroy  thee, 
and  there  shall  be  no  inhabitant !  ”  (Zeph.  ii.  5.) 

We  had  halted  for  some  time  on  the  top  of  a  mound  to 
get  a  wider  view  of  the  country  and  a  clearer  idea  of  the 
destruction  impending  over  it.  Selim  could  not  understand 
us.  With  manifest  impatience  he  pointed  once  arid  again 
to  the  sun  now  sinking  in  glory  behind  the  sand-hills.  At 
last  he  could  wait  no  longer.  With  a  wild  whoop,  and  a 
flourish  of  his  rifle,  he  dashed  his  heavy  stirrups  into  the 


CHARMS  OF  TENT  LIFE. 


203 


flanks  of  his  fiery  Arab,  and  disappeared  through  the  en¬ 
trance  of  a  shady  lane.  We  all  followed  at  a  hard  gallop, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  were  beside  our  truant  guide  in  the 
bustling  streets  of  Mejdel,  with  a  score  of  noisy  dogs  at 
our  heels,  and  troops  of  children  at  the  open  doors  and  on 
the  house-tops,  screaming  to  their  fellows  to  come  and  see 
the  Franjis  with  the  kettles  on  their  heads.  Leaving  the 
village  behind,  and  winding  through  an  olive  grove,  we 
came  to  an  open  glade,  where  our  tents  were  pitched,  and 
all  ready  for  reception. 

TENT  LIFE. 

What  a  charm  there  is  in  tent  life  on  the  hills  and  plains 
of  Palestine  !  It  presents  such  a  contrast  to  the  staid  rou¬ 
tine,  alike  of  labour  and  recreation  in  our  island  home,  to 
the  rapidity  and  regularity  of  rail  and  hotel,  that  one  can 
scarcely  think  himself  in  the  same  world.  The  sense  of 
complete  freedom,  of  absolute  independence,  is  strange  and 
new.  Then  there  is  the  dash  of  danger,  the  exhilarating 
effect  of  pure  air  and  exercise,  and,  above  all,  the  magic  in¬ 
fluence  of  place — of  sacred  and  historic  associations  ever 
crowding  on  the  mind,  suggested  and  awakened  by  names 
and  scenes,  all  of  them  of  hoary  antiquity,  and  yet  all  fami¬ 
liar  as  household  words  and  childhood’s  home.  Every  spot 
on  which  we  tread  is  holy.  Every  ruin  we  pass  by  has  a 
place  in  history.  Every  mountain  and  vale  the  eye  roams 
over  has  a  story  written  in  the  oldest  and  best  of  books. 
All  we  see  belongs  to  and  illustrates  the  past.  The  cos¬ 
tumes  of  the  people,  the  implements  of  husbandry,  the 
houses,  the  tents,  are  all  such  as  were  familiar  to  Abraham ; 
and  the  salutations  are  the  very  same  with  which  Abraham 
was  greeted  when  he  visited  the  Philistine  lords  at  Gerar, 
or  bargained  for  the  field  of  Machpelah  at  Hebron.  We 
roam  through  these  hallowed  scenes  all  the  day,  and  when 
evening  comes,  we  select  some  grassy  spot  beside  bubbling 
fountain  or  old  well.  We  dismount;  and  then,  as  if  by 


204 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  PHILISTINES. 


magic,  horses  are  picketted,  tents  are  pitched,  fires  are  kin¬ 
dled,  and  all  got  ready  in  true  gipsy  style — in  patriarchal 
style,  I  should  say — for  thus  the  old  patriarchs  lived  and 
travelled  through  these  very  hills  and  plains. 

The  sun  goes  down  in  a  blaze  of  glory ;  the  brief  twilight 
declines  to  a  faint  purple  streak  along  the  western  horizon ; 
the  stars  come  out  like  crystal  lamps  hung  to  the  black 
vault  of  heaven,  or  it  may  be  the  moon  sheds  her  clear  sil¬ 
very  light  on  the  landscape,  making  it  look  like  a  sepia- 
sketch  by  some  master  hand.  Dusky  figures  now  group 
themselves  in  a  circle  round  the  watch-fire,  and  we  retire  to 
our  tents  to  write  up  our  journals,  or  read  again  with  new 
interest  the  story  of  the  places  we  have  visited  during  the 
day.  The  Bible  is  drawn  forth,  the  best  and  most  accurate 
of  all  Handbooks  for  Palestine ;  and  old  Beland,  with  his 
classic  references  and  historic  incidents,  all  ready  to  the 
scholar’s  hand.  Here  is  the  tale  of  Ekron  and  the  ark. 
We  now  learn  with  surprise  that  Ashdod,  which  appeared, 
as  we  passed  through  it,  so  poor  and  so  wretched,  once 
stood  a  siege  of  twenty-nine  years  against  the  whole  forces 
of  Egypt  under  Psammiticus — the  longest  siege  on  record. 
We  find,  too,  that  Mejdel,  the  village  beside  us,  is  that 
Migdal-gad ,  which  was  allotted  with  fifteen  other  cities  in 
this  plain  to  the  tribe  of  Judah  (Josh.  xv.  37).  And  it  was 
also  that  Magdala ,  where  Herodotus  tells  us  Pharaoh-necho 
conquered  the  Syrians.  For  the  classical  scholar,  the  Bible- 
student,  and  the  earnest  Christian,  tent-life  and  travel  in 
Palestine  have  an  unceasing  charm.  And  in  after  years, 
amid  other  scenes,  I  can  tell  from  sweet  experience  that  the 
days  and  weeks  and  months  spent  there  will  appear  as  spots 
of  bright  sunshine  on  the  cloudy  landscape  of  memory. 

THRESHING  FLOORS  AND  THRESHING  INSTRUMENTS. 

The  threshing-floors  of  Mejdel  were  near  our  tents.  We 
went  over  to  them  in  the  grey  twilight.  They  are  circles 
of  smooth  ground  fifteen  to  twenty  yards  in  diameter. 


THRESHING-INSTRUMENTS  OF  IRON. 


205 


Each  had  on  it  a  heap  of  newly-reaped  grain ;  and  round 
the  outer  edges  of  the  heaps  were  broad  flattened  belts, 
where  the  “  instruments  ”  had  already  been  at  work.  La¬ 
bour  had  ceased  for  the  night,  and  the  oxen  were  feeding 
freely  on  the  half-trodden  grain,  as  if  their  masters  were 
resolved  to  obey  to  the  letter  the  Scripture  command, 
“  Thou  shalt  not  muzzle  the  ox  when  he  treadeth  out  the 
corn”  (Deut.  xxv.  4).  The  “threshing-instruments”  are 
flat,  heavy,  wooden  slabs,  some  five  feet  long  by  three 
wide,  slightly  turned  up  in  front.  The  under  surface  is 
thickly  studded  with  knobs  of  hard  stone  or  iron.  A  mas¬ 
sive  prison-door,  with  its  rows  of  projecting  nail-heads,  will 
give  the  best  idea  of  a  mowrej ,  as  the  instrument  is  now 
called.  Each  is  drawn  by  a  “  yoke  of  oxen.”  The  driver 
stands  on  the  mowrej  ;  and  the  goad ,  with  which  he  urges 
on  and  directs  the  movements  of  his  team,  is  a  formidable 
weapon.  It  is  sometimes  ten  feet  long,  and  has  a  sharp  iron 
point.  We  could  now  see  that  the  feat  of  Shamgar,  who 
“ slew  of  the  Philistines  six  hundred  men  with  an  ox- 
goad  f  was  not  so  very  wonderful  as  some  have  been  accus¬ 
tomed  to  think  (Judges  iii.  31).  The  oxen  advance  in  front, 
“  treading  out  ”  the  grain,  and  the  mowrej  follows,  crushing 
and  cutting  the  straw  with  its  “  teeth f  till  it  is  reduced 
almost  to  dust  (2  Kings  xiii.  V).  How  graphic  are  the 
words  of  Isaiah,  “  Behold  I  will  make  thee  a  new  sharp 
threshing  instrument  having  teeth:  thou  shalt  thresh  the 
mountains,  and  beat  them  small ,  and  thou  shalt  make  the 
hills  as  chaff!”  (xli.  15.)  How  terrible  must  have  been  the 
cruelty  inflicted  by  Damascus  on  Gilead,  when  Amos  thus 
describes  it:  “They  have  threshed  Gilead  with  threshing 
instruments  of  iron !  ”  (ii.  3.) 

The  people  were  at  their  evening  meal.  Each  group 
squatted  in  a  circle  round  a  huge  bowl  of  burg  hid — masters 
and  servants,  with  equal  freedom,  tearing  off  little  bits  of 
thin  soft  bread,  and  using  them  as  spoons  to  lift  the  savoury 
stew — thus  dipping  their  “ morsels ”  (Ruth  ii  14),  or 


206 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  PHILISTINES. 


“sops”  (John  xiii.  26),  into  the  dish.  It  was  a  most  inter¬ 
esting  scene,  again  bringing  vividly  before  our  minds  the 
narrative  of  the  threshing-floors  of  Boaz  at  Bethlehem. 

ASCALON. 

With  the  first  dawn  we  were  in  the  saddle,  and  bounding 
away  through  the  groves  of  Mejdel.  The  morning  air  was 
fragrant  with  the  perfume'  of  wild  flowers,  and  filled  with 
the  sweet,  soft  “  voice  of  the  turtle,”  which  seemed  to  float 
from  tree  to  tree — now  behind,  now  in  front,  now  close  on 
the  right,  now  far  away  on  the  left,  as  if  given  back  by  a 
thousand  echoes.  The  groves  and  fields  are  soon  left  be¬ 
hind,  and  we  enter  the  sandy  waste.  Giving  our  eager 
horses  the  rein,  they  plunge  on  madly,  over  ridge  and 
through  hollow.  The  Mediterranean  soon  came  into  view ; 
and  a  noble  view  it  was  —  a  boundless  expanse  of  blue 
water, 

“  Canopied  by  the  blue  sky, 

So  cloudless,  clear,  and  purely  beautiful, 

That  God  alone  was  to  be  seen  in  heaven.” 

Before  us,  on  the  shore,  was  a  green  oasis,  in  the  midst 
of  the  white  waste  of  sand.  Orchards  of  apples  and  apri¬ 
cots,  palm  trees  rising  gracefully  over  them,  and  the  soft 
and  varied  foliage  of  vines  and  pomegranates  forming  a 
dense  underwood.  Behind  this  desert  paradise,  and  pro¬ 
tecting  it  from  the  all-devouring  drift,  rose  what  appeared 
to  be  a  line  of  jagged  cliffs.  We  rode  straight  to  the  oasis, 
and  entering,  discovered  in  the  midst  of  it  the  little  village 
of  Jureh.  Looking  up  we  now  saw  that  the  cliffs  resolved 
themselves  into  the  ruined  ramparts  of  Ascalon.  We  rode 
on.  Our  horses  saw  the  rugged  heights  and  seemed  to 
know  their  task.  Onward  and  upward  they  proceed,  now 
gathering  their  feet  close  together  on  a  block  of  masonry, 
now  springing  lightly  as  gazelles  across  a  chasm,  now 
scrambling  painfully  up  the  shattered  wall ;  and  at  length, 
with  a  leap  and  a  snort  of  triumph,  gaining  the  very  sum¬ 
mit  of  the  battlements. 


DESOLATION  OF  ASCALON. 


207 


What  a  scene  of  desolation  there  burst  at  once  upon  our 
view  !  With  all  my  previous  experience  of  Syrian  ruins — 
and  I  had  seen  Bozrah  and  Kenath,  Gadara  and  Samaria, 
Baalbek  and  Palmyra — I  was  not  prepared  for  this.  Such 
utter,  terrible  desolation  I  had  never  met  before.  The  site 
of  Ascalon  is  in  form  like  an  old  Roman  theatre — the  sea  in 
front,  and  the  ground  once  occupied  by  the  city,  rising 
gradually  and  uniformly  to  the  wall,  which  runs  in  a  semi¬ 
circle  from  shore  to  shore.  The  whole  site  was  before  us. 
Rot  a  house,  nor  a  fragment  of  a  house  remains  standing. 
Rot  a  foundation  of  temple  or  palace  can  be  traced  entire. 
One  half  of  it  is  occupied  with  miniature  fields,  and  vine¬ 
yards,  and  fig-orchards ;  rubbish-mounds  here  and  there 
among  them,  and  great  heaps  of  hewn  stones,  and  broken 
shafts,  and  sculptured  slabs  of  granite  and  marble.  The 
rude  fences  exhibit  similar  painful  evidences  of  ancient 
wealth  and  magnificence. — The  other  half  of  the  site  was 
still  more  fearfully  desolate.  It  is  so  thickly  covered  with 
drift  sand,  that  not  a  heap  of  rubbish,  not  a  vestige  of  a 
ruin  remains  visible,  save  here  and  there  where  the  top  of 
a  column  rises  like  a  tombstone  above  the  smooth  surface. 
The  sand  is  fast  advancing ;  it  has  already  covered  some 
of  the  highest  fragments  of  the  southern  and  western  wall, 
and  ere  a  quarter  of  a  century  has  passed,  the  site  of  Asca¬ 
lon  will  have  been  blotted  out  for  ever. 

Dismounting,  I  took  out  my  Bible  and  read  the  doom 
pronounced  upon  Ascalon  by  the  prophets  Zechariah  and 
Zephaniah, — u  Aslcelon  shall  not  be  inhabited ” — u  Ashe- 
Ion  shall  be  a  desolation”  (Zech.  iv.  5  ;  Zeph.  ii.  4).  As¬ 
calon  is  a  desolation ;  it  shall  not  be ,  cannot  be,  inhabited ! 
As  we  stood  there  and  looked,  we  said  to  each  other,  “The 
eye  of  the  omniscient  God  alone  could  have  foreseen  such 
a  doom  as  this.” 

W e  lingered  long  among  the  ruins  of  Ascalon ;  visiting 
every  rubbish-heap,  and  inspecting  every  column.  The 
walls  were  interesting  to  us,  not  so  much  from  their  high 


208 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  PHILISTINES. 


antiquity,  or  the  almost  miraculous  way  in  which  they  have 
been  rent  and  shattered  and  tumbled  down  in  huge  frag¬ 
ments,  as  from  the  fact  that  they  were  last  built,  in  crusad¬ 
ing  times,  by  our  lion-hearted  King  Richard. 

GAZA. 

Gaza  is  ten  miles  from  Ascalon  as  the  crow  flies.  In 
three  hours  we  were  at  our  tents,  which  we  found  ready 
pitched  in  an  olive  grove  some  distance  from  the  town. 
We  had  a  long  evening  before  us,  and  sufficient  time  to 
see  all  the  objects  of  interest  in  and  around  the  place.  We 
were  anxious  to  gain  admission  to  the  great  mosque — the 
only  building  of  any  historic  note  now  standing  in  Gaza. 
It  was  formerly  a  Christian  church,  built  by  the  liberality 
of  the  Empress  Eudoxia,  about  a.d.  406.  We  were  dis¬ 
appointed,  as  we  found  the  fanatical  populace  prepared  to 
resist  by  main  force  any  attempt  at  intrusion. 

Gaza  still  contains  about  15,000  inhabitants.  The  town 
resembles  a  cluster  of  large  villages.  The  principal  one 
stands  on  the  top  of  a  low  hill,  and  the  others  lie  on  the 
plain  at  its  base.  The  hill  appears  to  be  composed  in  a 
great  measure  of  the  accumulated  ruins  of  successive  cities. 
We  can  see  portions  of  massive  walls  and  the  ends  of  old 
columns  cropping  up  everywhere  from  the  rubbish.  There 
are  no  walls  or  defences  of  any  kind ;  and  the  inhabitants 
have  long  been  known  as  a  fierce  and  lawless  set  of  fanat¬ 
ics.  Between  Gaza  and  the  sea  is  a  belt  of  sand,  about 
three  miles  wide.  A  mile  east  of  the  town  a  ridge  of  low 
hills  runs  parallel  to  the  coast.  Between  the  sand  and 
these  hills  the  ground  is  of  unrivalled  fertility,  and  sup¬ 
plies  the  town  with  abundance  of  the  choicest  fruit  and 
vegetables. 

As  we  stood  examining  the  architecture  of  the  great 
mosque,  which  occupies  the  crown  of  the  hill,  an  old  Mos¬ 
lem  sheikh  came  up,  and  said,  pointing  with  his  pipe  to  a 
deep  cutting  in  a  mound  of  rubbish  near  us,  “  There  is 


SAMSON’S  HILL  AT  GAZA. 


209 


Samson’s  Gate.”  “  Who  is  Samson  ?  ”  we  asked.  “  A 
giant  wlio  came  to  Ghuzzeh;  and  when  the  infidels  who 
then  lived  here  shut  the  gate  to  keep  him  in,  he  pulled  it 
off,  killed  the  keepers  with  a  blow  of  the  bar,  and  carried 
the  whole  away  under  his  arm.”  “Where  did  he  take  the 
gate  to?”  we  again  inquired.  “To  the  top  of  that  hill 
where  you  see  the  wely ,” — turning  the  end  of  his  long  pipe 
to  the  highest  point  of  the  ridge  to  the  eastward. 

The  sheikh  was  in  all  probability  right.  Whether  or  no, 
we  were  gratified  to  hear  such  a  tradition  lingering  on  this 
spot.  I  wandered  away  alone  through  the  gardens  and 
orchards,  and  climbed  Samson’s  Hill.  I  was  amply  repaid 
for  my  toil.  The  view  is  wide  and  most  interesting.  The 
town  lay  at  my  feet,  with  its  circuit  of  verdure ;  beyond  it 
the  white  sandy  downs;  and  farther  still,  the  Mediterra¬ 
nean,  gleaming  in  the  sunlight.  On  the  south,  the  great 
road  to  Egypt,  so  often  trodden  by  the  Pharaohs,  running 
away  along  the  plain,  a  meandering  line.  The  valley  of 
Gerar  was  visible, — a  depression  in  the  plain,  extending 
from  the  coast  far  inland.  I  could  see  in  it  the  black  tents 
of  the  Arabs,  who  now  feed  their  flocks  on  the  pastures 
once  so  highly  prized  by  Abraham  and  Isaac,  (Gen.  xx. 
1-16;  xxvi.)  On  the  east  and  north-east  was  spread  out 
the  great  undulating  plain  of  Philistia,  patched  with  green 
and  red  in  the  foreground,  but  dissolving  into  a  uniform 
grey  in  the  distance,  and  shut  in  in  the  far  distance  by  the 
mountains  that  encircle  Hebron,  now  ruddy  with  the  even¬ 
ing  sun.  “  Samson  took  the  doors  of  the  gate  of  the  city, 
and  the  two  posts,  and  went  away  with  them,  bar  and  all, 
and  put  them  upon  his  shoulders,  and  carried  them  up  to 
the  top  of  an  hill  that  is  before  Hebron  ”  (Judges  xvi.  3). 
I  was  now  convinced  the  sheikh’s  tradition  was  true,  and 
that  I  stood  on  the  very  spot  where  Samson  deposited  the 
gates  of  Gaza. 


210 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  PHILISTINES 


III. 

“  In  many  a  heap  the  ground 
Heaves,  as  if  Ruin  in  a  frantic  mood 
Had  done  his  utmost.  Here  and  there  appears, 

As  left  to  show  his  handy-work  not  ours, 

An  idle  column,  a  half-buried  arch, 

A  wall  of  some  great  temple.” 

The  road  from  Gaza  to  J erusalem  “  is  desert ,”  as  we  learn 
from  the  incidental  remark  of  Luke  (Acts  viii.  26),  and  as 
I  can  testify  from  personal  observation.  It  runs  across  a 
dreary,  parched  plain,  which,  on  the  right  and  left,  extends 
to  the  horizon,  and  in  front  is  shut  in  by  the  blue  mountains 
of  Judah.  On  emerging  from  the  olive  groves  of  Gaza,  the 
desert  was  before  us — bare,  white,  and  monotonous,  without 
a  solitary  tree,  or  the  “  shadow  of  a  great  rock,”  or  a  sin¬ 
gle  patch  of  verdure.  As  we  rode  on  we  had  overhead 
the  bright  sky  and  blazing  sun;  and  beneath,  the  flinty 
soil,  reflecting  burning  rays  that  scorched  the  weeds  and 
stunted  camel-thorn,  and  made  them  crackle  like  charred 
sticks  under  our  horses’  feet.  As  the  day  advanced,  the 
sirocco  came  upon  us,  blowing  across  the  great  “  Wilder¬ 
ness  of  Wandering.”  At  first  it  was  but  a  faint  breath, 
hot  and  parching,  as  if  coming  from  a  furnace.  It  increased 
slowly  and  steadily.  Then  a  thick  haze,  of  a  dull  yellow  or 
brass  colour,  spread  along  the  southern  horizon,  and  ad¬ 
vanced,  rising  and  expanding,  until  it  covered  the  whole 
face  of  the  sky,  leaving  the  sun,  a  red  globe  of  fire,  in  the 
midst.  We  now  knew  and  felt  that  it  was  the  fierce  si¬ 
moom.  In  a  few  moments,  fine  impalpable  sand  began  to 
drift  in  our  faces,  entering  every  pore.  Nothing  could  ex¬ 
clude  it.  It  blew  into  our  eyes,  mouths,  and  nostrils,  and 
penetrated  our  very  clothes,  causing  the  skin  to  contract, 
the  lips  to  crack,  and  the  eyes  to  burn.  Respiration  be¬ 
came  difficult.  We  sometimes  gasped  for  breath;  and 
then  the  hot  wind  and  hotter  sand  rushed  into  our  mouths 
like  a  stream  of  liquid  fire.  We  tried  to  urge  on  our 


THE  SIMOOM. 


211 


horses ;  but  though  chafing  against  curb  and  rein  only  an 
hour  before,  they  were  now  almost  insensible  to  whip  and 
spur.  We  looked  and  longed  for  shelter  from  that  pitiless 
storm,  and  for  water  to  slake  our  burning  thirst ;  but  there 
wras  none.  The  plain  extended  on  every  side,  smooth  as  a 
lake,  to  the  circle  of  yellow  haze  that  bounded  it.  No 
friendly  house  was  there ;  no  rock  or  bank ;  no  murmuring 
stream  nor  solitary  well.  It  seemed  to  us  as  if  the  prophet¬ 
ic  curse  pronounced  by  the  Almighty  on  a  sinful  and  apos¬ 
tate  nation  was  now  being  fulfilled.  We  could  see,  at 
least,  in  the  whole  face  of  nature,  in  earth  and  sky  and 
storm,  how  terrible  and  how  graphic  that  curse  was: — 
“ Thy  heaven  that  is  over  thy  head  shall  be  brass,  and  the 
earth  that  is  under  thee  shall  be  iron.  The  Lord  shall 
make  the  rain  of  the  land  powder  and  dust :  from  heaven 
shall  it  come  down  upon  thee  ”  (Deut.  xxviii.  23,  24). 

LACHISH  AND  EGLON. 

The  storm  was  at  its  height  when  we  saw,  rising  up  be¬ 
fore  us,  a  low  white  mound.  As  we  approached  we  could 
distinguish  heaps  of  ruins  and  rubbish ;  and  on  reaching  it, 
and  pressing  our  panting  steeds  up  its  shelving  sides  in 
search  of  some  rude  shelter,  we  scrambled  over  large  hewn 
stones,  and  fragments  of  marble  columns,  with  here  and 
there  a  piece  of  carved  cornice  or  sculptured  pediment  pro¬ 
truding  from  the  dust.  Our  guide  had  dashed  on  in  front, 
and  we  eagerly  followed,  heedless  of  stones,  and  pits,  and 
prostrate  houses — in  silence,  but  hoping  for  some  kind  of 
relief.  A  cry  of  joy  burst  from  the  whole  party  as,  on 
passing  the  crest  of  the  tell,  we  saw  a  low  broken  wall,  and 
not  far  from  it  a  number  of  stone  troughs  round  the  mouth 
of  an  old  well.  The  well  was  dry,  but  we  crouched  down 
under  the  shelter  of  the  wall,  and  our  poor  horses  came 
close  to  our  feet,  lowering  their  heads  and  shutting  their 
eyes  to  escape  the  drifting  sand.  In  about  an  hour  the 
simoom  had  spent  its  fury,  and  we  prepared  to  resume  our 


212 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  PHILISTINES. 


route.  “  What  place  is  this  ?  ”  I  said  to  Selim,  who  lay  be¬ 
side  me,  coiled  up  in  the  folds  of  his  capote.  “Urn  Lakis,” 
he  replied.  Um  Lakis !  This  then  is  all  that  marks  the 
site  and  bears  the  name  of  Lachish ,  which  Joshua  besieged 
and  captured  (Josh  x.  31-33).  Starting  to  my  feet  I  ran 
to  the  top  of  the  mound.  Round  the  spot  where  I  stood 
lay  the  heaped-up  ruins  and  the  dust  of  a  once  great  and 
royal  city,  now  deserted  and  utterly  desolate.  From  the 
ruins  I  looked  away  out  over  the  plain  where  the  Israelites 
were  marshalled,  having  approached  from  the  north ;  then 
I  turned  to  the  south,  to  see  the  route  by  which  the  troops 
of  “  Horam,  King  of  Gezer,  came  up  to  help  Lachish.”  The 
brief  conflict,  and  the  decisive  victory  of  Joshua,  must  have 
been  distinctly  seen  by  the  inhabitants.  And  that  plain 
which  stretches  away  northward  to  the  horizon,  was  the 
scene  of  another  event — one  of  the  most  mysterious  and  ter¬ 
rible  recorded  in  history.  The  vast  army  of  Sennacherib 
had  “come  up”  against  “the  fenced  cities  of  Judah.” 
They  encamped  first  against  Lachish,  and  then  marched  on 
Libnah,  a  neighbouring  city  (2  Kings  xviii.  13,  et  seq.) 
The  monarch,  in  the  pride  of  his  power,  when  at  the  head 
of  his  victorious  soldiers,  dared  to  defy  the  God  of  Israel. 
“  Who  are  they,”  he  asked,  “  among  all  the  gods  of  the 
countries,  that  have  delivered  their  country  out  of  mine 
hand,  that  the  Lord  should  deliver  Jerusalem  out  of  mine 
hand?”  The  Lord  himself  replied  to  the  impious  ques¬ 
tion  : — “  And  it  came  to  pass  that  night,  that  the  angel  of 
the  Lord  went  out,  and  smote  in  the  camp  of  the  Assyrians 
an  hundred  four-score  and  five  thousand  ”  (xix.  35). 

“  Like  the  leaves  of  the  forest  when  summer  is  green, 

That  host  with  their  banners  at  sunset  were  seen  ; 

Like  the  leaves  of  the  forest  when  autumn  hath  blown, 

That  host  on  the  morrow  lay  withered  and  strewn. 

For  the  Angel  of  death  spread  his  wings  on  the  blast, 

And  breathed  on  the  face  of  the  foe  as  he  passed ; 

And  the  eyes  of  the  sleepers  waxed  deadly  and  chill, 

And  their  hearts  but  once  heaved,  and  for  ever  were  still !  ** 


EGLON. 


213 


May  not  the  angel  of  death  have  spread  his  wiirgs  on  the 
blast  of  some  such  storm  as  that  which  we  had  just  en¬ 
countered  ?  Had  it  been  only  a  little  more  violent,  and  of 
a  little  longer  duration,  no  army,  exposed  to  its  fury  on  such 
a  plain,  could  have  survived  it. 

“From  Lachish  Joshua  passed  on  to  Eglon,”  and  so  did 
we.  We  were  now  in  the  track  of  the  great  conqueror, 
treading  the  very  soil  which  he  trod  more  than  thirty  cen¬ 
turies  ago,  and  visiting  the  sites  of  those  royal  cities  which 
he  wrested  from  the  Canaanite  kings.  As  we  read  the  brief 
narrative  of  his  marches  and  his  victories,  we  were  struck 
with  the  minute  accuracy  of  his  topography.  The  distance 
from  Lachish  to  Eglon  is  just  about  two  miles ;  and  it  was 
thus  easy  for  the  Israelites,  after  the  capture  of  the  former, 
to  march  on  the  latter,  and  “take  it  the  same  day”  (Josh, 
x.  34,  35). 

Eglon,  like  Lachish,  is  utterly  desolate.  It  is  a  shapeless 
mass  of  ruins  and  rubbish,  strewn  over  a  rounded  hillock, 
with  two  or  three  light  marble  shafts  standing  up  among 
them,  like  tombstones  in  an  old  cemetery. 

Still  we  rode  on  eastward  over  the  undulating  desolate 
plain.  Our  course  lay  along  the  southern  border  of  Philis- 
tia,  where  the  plain  has  been  overrun  for  many  a  century 
by  the  wandering  Ishmaelites  of  Et-Tih,  and  where  exten¬ 
sive  cultivation  and  settled  habitation  are  alike  impossible. 
What  it  is  now  it  appears  to  have  always  been  —  debate- 
able  land.  From  the  line  of  our  route  southward  to  the 
valley  of  Gerar,  Abraham  and  Isaac  pastured  their  flocks ; 
and  their  shepherds  disputed  with  the  Philistines  about  the 
wells  they  dug.  The  pastures,  then  as  now,  were  free  and 
abundant ;  but  springs  of  water  were  too  rare  and  precious 
to  be  retained  or  surrendered  without  a  struggle.  In  our 
ride  of  more  than  thirty  miles  that  day  we  did  not  meet  a 
human  being ;  and  from  the  moment  we  left  the  fields  of 
Gaza  till  we  passed  in  among  the  rocky  spurs  of  the  hills  of 
Judah,  we  did  not  see  a  single  sign  of  human  life.  We 


214 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  PHILISTINES. 


saw  many  towns  and  villages  in  ruins — white  mounds  of 
rubbish  —  on  the  grey  plain.  The  words  of  the  prophet 
were  constantly  in  our  minds  and  on  our  tongues.  “  O 
Canaan,  the  land  of  the  Philistines,  I  will  even  destroy 
thee,  that  there  shall  be  no  inhabitant  ”  (Zeph.  ii.  5).  Some 
miles  further  north  the  desolation  is  not  so  complete.  I 
had  an  opportunity  during  another  tour,  of  visiting  two 
or  three  little  villages  still  remaining  there,  and  of  seeing 
noble  fields  of  grain  round  them. 

The  sun  was  setting  behind  us  as  we  crossed  the  ridge 
that  bounds  the  pleasant  vale  of  Beit  Jibiln.  We  had  now 
left  the  Shephelah ,  “the  low  country,”  with  its  white 
downs  and  wide  reaches  of  bare,  desolate  plain,  and  rich 
corn  fields,  and  we  had  entered  the  “  hill  country,”  with  its 
rocky  ridges  and  conical  tells,  and  shrubberies  of  dwarf 
ilex,  and  green  winding  glens.  The  contrast  was  great,  and 
the  change  pleasant.  Halting  beneath  the  massive  ruins  of 
Beit  Jibrin  our  tents  were  soon  pitched,  and  we  felt  the 
sweets  of  rest  and  sleep  after  a  day  of  unusual  fatigue  and 
suffering. 

THE  BORDER  LAND  OF  JUDAH  AND  PHILISTIA. 

When  the  stranger  travels  through  the  hill  country, 
which  separates  the  Judean  range  from  the  Philistine  plain, 
his  attention  is  arrested  by  many  objects  which  seem 
strange  and  almost  inexplicable.  The  rich  plains  are  in  a 
great  measure  deserted;  yet  the  wildest  recesses  of  these 
hills  are  studded  with  villages.  The  people  seem  to  have 
selected  for  their  abode  the  most  rugged  and  inaccessible 
localities  they  could  possibly  find.  One  would  fancy  they 
had  something  of  the  spirit  of  the  old  hermits  in  them. 
Here  are  villages  built  amid  labyrinths  of  rocks ;  there  they 
are  clinging  like  swallows’  nests  to  the  sides  of  precipices ; 
while  away  yonder,  they  are  perched  like  feudal  castles  on 
the  tops  of  hills.  Often,  too,  when  riding  through  yawing 
ravines,  between  beetling  cliffs,  where  one  would  think  no 


BORDER  LAND. 


215 


human  being  would  voluntarily  dwell,  or  could  find  means 
of  life,  we  are  startled  by  groups  of  children,  most  of  them 
naked,  springing  out  from  holes-  and  caves,  and  shouting 
their  wonder  or  delight  at  the  strange  costume  of  the  trav¬ 
ellers.  Looking  up  we  see,  far  overhead,  vines  hanging  in 
festoons  from  the  brows  of  jagged  rocks,  and  miniature 
corn-fields  on  shelving  liill-tops,  round  which  the  eagles 
sweep  in  graceful  circles.  We  observe,  too,  that  every  an¬ 
cient  town  and  village  was  a  fortress ;  and  that  every  mod¬ 
ern  hamlet  is  capable  of  defence.  Another  remarkable 
characteristic  of  this  region  is  the  multitude  of  its  caves. 
They  are  found  wherever  there  is  a  trace  of  human  habita¬ 
tion — hewn  in  the  soft  calcareous  rock,  and  so  constructed 
as  to  form  secure  magazines  for  grain,  and  safe  places  of 
abode  for  the  inhabitants  in  time  of  danger.  The  solution 
of  these  anomalies  is,  that  this  has  always  been  border  land . 
Every  foot  of  it  was  keenly  contested  by  the  Israelites  and 
Philistines.  At  a  later  period  the  Idumeans  invaded  the 
south  and  west  of  Palestine.  From  the  fall  of  the  Jewish 
power  to  the  present  day,  an  unceasing  warfare  has  been 
waged  between  the  roving  freebooters  of  the  plain  and  the 
settled  dwellers  on  the  mountains. 

The  Bethogabra  of  the  Jews,  the  Eleutheropolis  of  the 
Greeks,  the  Beigiberin  of  the  Crusaders,  and  the  Beit  Ji- 
brin  of  the  Arabs,  was  for  more  than  fifteen  centuries  the 
chief  fortress  of  the  border  land, — the  key  of  the  mountains, 
and  the  defence  of  the  great  roads  from  Jerusalem  and 
Hebron  to  Gaza.  The  massive  ruins  of  its  castle,  among 
which  the  first  dawn  of  the  morning  found  us  wandering, 
show  its  ancient  importance.  But  we  were  still  more 
deeply  interested  in  the  caverns  excavated  in  the  rocky 
banks  of  the  vale  south  of  the  ruins.  Having  procured 
lights  and  a  guide  we  closely  examined  the  three  principal 
groups.  They  are  unique  in  plan  and  character, — altogeth¬ 
er  different  from  the  temple-tombs  of  Egypt,  and  the  beau¬ 
tiful  rock  chambers  of  Petra,  and  the  intricate  sepulchres  of 
10 


216 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  PHILISTINES. 


Jerusalem.  Here  are  long  ranges  of  bell-shaped  chambers, 
some  of  them  seventy  feet  in  diameter,  and  sixty  high,  con¬ 
nected  by  arched  doorways,  and  winding  subterranean  pas¬ 
sages,  and  long  flights  of  steps  ascending  and  descending. 
Many  are  entirely  dark;  others  are  lighted  by  a  circular 
aperture  at  the  top ;  the  roofs  of  others  have  partially  fall¬ 
en  in,  leaving  jagged  openings  through  which  the  sunlight 
streams,  and  long  brambles  hang  down.  Side  chambers, 
like  galleries,  are  occasionally  seen  opening  high  up  in  the 
wall.  Near  and  among  them,  also,  are  tombs,  ranging  from 
twenty  to  sixty  feet  in  length,  with  tiers  of  recesses  for 
bodies  on  each  side.  It  is  a  strange,  romantic  spot  this 
vale  of  Beit  Jibrin.  One  might  spend  days  roaming 
through  its  mysterious  caves,  which  look  like  subterranean 
towns.  The  remains  on  the  surface,  too,  are  well  worth  the 
attention  of  the  antiquarian  and  the  architect.  Cyclopean 
foundations,  indicating  the  Jewish  or  Phoenician  age,  solid 
walls,  and  deep  wells  of  the  Roman  period,  the  light  and 
picturesque  Gothic  of  Crusading  times,  are  all  displayed  in 
groups  through  this  valley.  And  away  at  its  southern  ex¬ 
tremity  is  a  bare  conical  hill,  honey-combed  with  caverns. 
That  is  the  site  of  Mareshah,  where  Asa  defeated  the  army 
of  the  Ethiopians,  (2  Chron.  xiv.) 

Sending  tents  and  baggage  direct  to  Beit  Nettif,  on  the 
side  of  the  Valley  of  Elah,  we  set  out  with  our  guide  to 
explore  the  border  land  between  Beit  Jibrin  and  Bethshe- 
mesh.  On  we  sped  at  a  dashing  pace,  invigorated  by  the 
mountain  air — up  rocky  banks,  over  rounded  ridges  with 
bare  crowns  of  naked  limestone,  through  tangled  brakes  of 
prickly  ilex  and  wild  plum,  and  across  green  vales,  down 
which  wound  dry  torrent  beds,  covered  with  white  glis 
tening  pebbles,  and  fringed  with  the  acacia  and  oleander, 
Kudna,  Dhikrin,  and  Deir  Dubban  were  visited  in  succes¬ 
sion,  and  their  caverns  inspected,  similar  in  all  respects  to 
those  above  described,  except  that  some  of  them  are  now 
converted  into  cisterns,  on  which  the  people  depend  for  a 
supply  of  water. 


SITE  OF  GATH  DISCOVERED. 


217 


GATH. 

One  object  of  my  tour  in  Philistia  was  to  discover,  if  pos¬ 
sible,  the  long  lost  site  of  Gath.  Since  the  days  of  Jerome 
it  has  been  unknown ;  and  even  the  wonderful  geographical 
skill  of  Robinson  was  unable  to  trace  it  out.  I  need  not 
here  detail  those  incidental  allusions  and  topographical  no¬ 
tices  of  the  sacred  writers,  and  those  accurate  measurements 
and  references  of  Eusebius  and  Jerome,  which  serve  to  in¬ 
dicate  the  district  in  which  it  must  have  stood.  It  is  enough 
to  say  that  I  was  satisfied  they  all  pointed  to  some  place  on 
the  route  we  were  now  pursuing.  It  was,  therefore,  with 
an  interest  approaching  to  excitement  we  surveyed  the 
position  and  examined  the  remains  of  every  village  and 
ruin  we  passed.  But  from  the  moment  we  gained  the 
crest  of  the  first  ridge  north  of  Beit  Jibrin,  there  was  one 
prominent  object  away  before  us  which  attracted  our  chief 
attention — a  bare,  white,  conical  hill,  standing  on  the  very 
edge  of  the  great  plain,  and  yet  rising  high  enough  to  com¬ 
mand  all  the  rocky  spurs  up  to  the  very  base  of  the  moun¬ 
tains.  As  valley  after  valley  was  passed,  it  became  more 
and  more  conspicuous.  At  length  we  reached  it,  and  rode 
over  rubbish  heaps  and  terraced  vineyards  to  its  summit. 
The  hill  rises  about  one  hundred  feet  above  the  ridge  that 
joins  it  on  the  east,  and  some  two  hundred  over  the  level 
plain  that  sweeps  its  western  base.  It  is  crowned  with  the 
foundations  of  an  old  castle,  and  round  its  sides  are  nu¬ 
merous  remains  of  ancient  buildings.  The  view  from  it  is 
most  extensive.  The  whole  plain  of  Philistia  was  spread 
out  before  us,  variegated  with  fields  of  yellow  corn,  and  red 
fallow  land,  and  long  reaches  of  grey  wastes.  Away  on 
the  south-western  horizon  the  white  downs  of  Gaza  and 
Ascalon  mingle  with  the  glittering  waters  of  the  Mediter¬ 
ranean.  On  the  west  we  could  see  the  little  hill  of  Ash- 
dod  dark  with  olive  groves:  further  to  the  right  Ekron; 
and  further  still  the  white  tower  of  Ramleh.  The  moun- 


218 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  PHILISTINES. 


tains  of  Judah  rise  up  on  the  east  in  dark  frowning  masses; 
every  peak  crowned  with  village  or  ruin,  whose  name  car¬ 
ries  us  away  thousands  of  years  back. 

The  modern  name  of  this  hill,  Tell  es-Safieh ,  gives  no 
clue  to  its  ancient  name.  The  Crusaders  built  a  castle  on 
it  in  the  twelfth  century,  and  called  it  Blanche-garde  ;  and 
the  surrounding  country  became  the  scene  of  some  of  the 
daring  adventures  of  Richard  Coeur-de-lion.  This  hill,  if 
fortified — as  it  evidently  was  from  the  earliest  ages — would 
be  the  key  of  the  Philistine  plain  on  the  east.  Watchmen 
from  its  summit  could  see  every  hostile  band  that  would 
attempt  to  break  forth  from  the  mountain  defiles.  The 
warlike  Philistines  would  never  have  overlooked  a  position 
so  commanding,  and  naturally  so  strong ;  one  so  well-fitted 
also  for  defending  those  vast  corn-fields  in  which  lay  their 
wealth  and  their  power.  From  the  moment  I  set  my  foot 
upon  Tell  es-Safieh,  I  felt  convinced  that  it  is  the  site  of  the 
royal  city  of  Gath. 

What  a  life-like  vividness  did  this  discovery  throw  on 
some  of  the  most  romantic  incidents  of  early  Jewish  his¬ 
tory  !  The  gigantic  Anakim  were  annihilated  by  Joshua 
throughout  the  whole  land ;  “  Only  in  Gaza,  and  Gath ,  and 
in  Ashdod,”  those  impregnable  fortresses  they  remained 
(Josh.  xi.  22).  And  from  this  place  Goliath — one  of  the 
last  of  the  giant  race — marched  out  in  his  panoply  of  mail, 
the  acknowledged  champion  of  the  Philistines,  to  threaten 
and  defy  the  Israelites  in  the  neighbouring  “valley  of 
Elah,”  which  we  shall  visit  anon,  (1  Sam.  xvii.)  And 
hither,  a  few  years  later,  David  came,  a  homeless  refugee. 
When  recognised  he  feigned  himself  mad,  and  easily  es¬ 
caped  into  those  thickets  that  cover  the  hills  around.  I 
had  often  wondered  why  David  should  have  fled  to  Gath ; 
and  why,  having  at  length  propitiated  the  Philistine  lords, 
he  should  have  made  it  his  home.  Now,  on  the  spot,  I  saw 
the  reason.  Here  he  was  perfectly  secure  from  Saul.  He 
was  on  the  very  border  of  his  kingdom,  besides,  within  a 


VALLEY  OF  ELAH. 


219 


few  hours’  march  of  his  native  Bethlehem ;  thus  able  to  keep 
up  an  uninterrupted  communication  with  his  friends  through 
those  mountain  passes,  and  ready  at  a  moment’s  notice  to 
take  advantage  of  any  turn  of  events  that  might  seem  to 
favour  his  ambitious  designs. 

Descending  through  the  terraced  vineyards  that  cover  the 
whole  slopes  of  Tell  es-Safieh,  we  were  struck  with  the  ap¬ 
propriateness  of  the  old  name  Gath ,  “  wine-press,”  for  such 
a  site  even  yet.  An  hour’s  hard  ride  up  a  green  vale,  fra¬ 
grant  with  thyme,  and  spangled  with  wild  flowers,  brought 
us  into  the  lower  part  of  the  “  Yalley  of  Elah.”  Before  us, 
on  the  crest  of  a  rocky  ridge,  was  Jarmuth.  On  our  right 
rose  the  ruin-crowned  tell  of  Zacharieh,  doubtless  the  site 
of  ancient  Azekah.  Here  then  we  were  close  to  the  place 
where  Joshua  captured  and  hanged  the  five  kings,  (Josh, 
x.)  After  the  defeat  of  Gibeon,  and  the  rout  of  Beth-horon, 
the  fugitives  ran  along  the  borders  of  the  plain  “  to  Azekah 
and  Makkedah.”  Hotly  pursued,  they  seem  to  have  made 
for  Jarmuth.  They  had  got  so  far  up  the  valley  of  Elah; 
but  now,  wearied  and  way-worn,  they  were  unable  to  at¬ 
tempt  the  steep  ascent ;  and  seeing  the  foe  close  behind  they 
hid  themselves  “in  a  cave  at  Makkedah;”  one  of  those 
caves  with  which  the  whole  region  abounds.  Their  fate  is 
well  known.  About  a  mile  above  this  spot,  on  the  right 
side  of  the  valley,  is  a  ruin  called  El-Klediah,  answering 
to  the  position,  and  bearing  some  resemblance  to  the  name 
of  Makkedah.  Two  hours  more  over  rugged  hills  brought 
us  to 

BETH-SHEMESH. 

Beth-shemesh ,  “  The  House  of  the  Sun,”  does  not  contain 
a  single  house  now ;  heaps  of  ruins  strewn  over  a  broad 
ridge,  and  half  concealed  by  thistles  and  poppies,  and  bright 
marigolds,  mark  the  site  of  the  old  city.  In  modem  times 
its  name  has  been  somehow  changed  to  Ain-esh-Shems, 
“  The  Fountain  of  the  Sun ;”  and  yet,  strange  to  say,  there 
is  no  fountain  here  either.  But  the  situation  is  a  noble  one. 


220 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  PHILISTINES. 


A  broad  rich  vale  runs  down  on  each  side  of  the  swelling 
ridge  meeting  in  front,  and  then  opening  a  mile  or  two  be¬ 
yond  into  the  great  plain. 

We  had  around  us  at  Beth-shemesh  the  native  country 
of  Samson,  and  from  its  ruins  we  could  see  the  scenes  of 
some  of  the  leading  events  of  his  strange  life.  Beyond  the 
fertile  valley  on  the  north  rises  a  steep  hill,  crowned  with  a 
Muslem  wely  and  a  small  village, — that  is  Zorah,  the  home 
of  Manoah,  and  Samson’s  birth-place  (Judges  xiii.  2).  It 
overlooks  the  whole  Philistine  plain,  and  most  of  the  bor¬ 
der  land.  Samson  must  thus  have  been  familiar  from 
childhood  with  border  raids  and  border  warfare ;  he  must 
have  been  familiar  with  the  power  and  the  tyranny  of  the 
Philistines.  Many  a  band  of  them,  doubtless,  did  he  see 
marching  up  the  glen  beneath  his  father’s  house,  and  re¬ 
turning  again  laden  with  spoils  of  his  brethren.  Many  an 
act  of  rapine,  and  cruel  outrage,  and  barbarous  murder,  had 
left  an  impress  deep  and  lasting  on  his  mind,  stirring  him 
in  after  years  to  revenge.  Some  two  miles  west  of  Beth- 
shemesh,  on  the  borders  of  the  plain,  is  Timnath,  where 
Samson  got  his  first  wife  (xiv.  1).  It  was  in  “going  down” 
from  the  heights  of  Zorah  to  Timnath — somewhere  along 
the  rugged  banks  of  that  intervening  valley — that  he  killed 
the  young  lion.  That  valley  itself,  now  called  Sor&r ,  is 
most  probably  the  “Valley  of  Sorek,”  where  the  infamous 
Delilah  dwelt  (xvi.  4).  It  was  among  these  hills,  and  the 
recesses  of  those  rugged  mountains  eastward,  that  he  caught 
the  “three  hundred  jackals”  (such  appears  to  be  the  true 
meaning  of  the  Hebrew  word),  and  tying  them  tail  to  tail, 
with  torches  between  them,  let  them  go  at  harvest  time 
among  the  standing  corn  of  the  Philistines.  What  havoc 
they  must  have  made  as  they  sped  from  field  to  field,  from 
vineyard  to  olive  grove !  And  with  what  wild  delight 
must  Samson  have  viewed,  from  the  heights  of  Zorah,  the 
streams  of  fire  sweeping  onward  and  outward  in  every  di¬ 
rection,  and  the  conflagration  spreading  from  stream  to 


DEATH  OF  SAMSON. 


221 


stream,  until  the  whole  plain  was  one  sheet  of  flame !  Poor 
Samson  was  betrayed  at  last : — 

“  Ask  for  this  great  deliverer  now,  and  find  him 
Eyeless  in  Gaza,  at  the  mill  with  slaves, 

Himself  in  bonds  under  Philistian  yoke.” 

F atal  bondage  his  to  the  Philistine  lords !  Savage  cruelty 
theirs,  but  to  be  returned  ten-fold  on  their  own  devoted 
heads !  Thus  does  Milton  describe  the  last  act  of  Samson’s 
life: — 

“  Oh,  dearly  bought  revenge,  yet  glorious ! 

Living  or  dying  thou  hast  fulfilled 
The  work  for  which  thou  wast  foretold 
To  Israel,  and  now  liest  victorious 
Among  thy  slain,  self-killed  ; 

Not  willingly,  but  tangled  in  the  fold 
Of  dire  necessity,  whose  law  in  death  conjoined 
Thee  with  thy  slaughtered  foes  in  number  more 
Than  all  thy  life  had  slain  before.” 


Samson’s  mangled  body  was  brought  up  from  Gaza  by  his 
brethren,  and  buried  on  his  native  hill,  “between  Zorah 
and  Eshtaol”  (xvi.  31). 

We  lingered  long  amid  the  ruins  of  Beth-shemesh,  read¬ 
ing  and  pondering  these  and  other  incidents  of  sacred  his¬ 
tory,  which  the  places  round  us  naturally  suggested.  The 
sun  went  down  into  the  waters  of  the  Mediterranean  in  a 
halo  of  glory.  The  purple  shadows  of  the  wild  glens  grad¬ 
ually  waxed  deeper  and  darker;  and  the  jagged  outline  of 
hills  and  mountains  was  drawn  in  bold  relief  upon  the  blue 
sky.  The  bright  stars  came  out  one  by  one.  Still  we  lin¬ 
gered,  reluctant  to  turn  away  for  ever  from  a  spot  so 
strangely  interesting.  A  long,  low,  plaintive  wail  suddenly 
broke  the  deep  silence  of  the  mountains  over  us.  Another, 


like  an  echo,  answered  it  from  the  valley.  Then  another, 
and  another,  louder,  and  clearer,  and  nearer,  until  mountain, 
glen,  and  distant  plain  resounded  with  a  ceaseless  howl  of 
jackals.  They  seem  to  be  as  numerous  yet  as  they  were  in 
Samson’s  days. 

At  length  Selim  urged  us  to  mount,  reminding  us  that 


222 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  PHILISTINES. 


Beit  Nettif  was  still  far  distant,  and  that  the  road  over 
the  mountains  was  both  difficult  and  dangerous.  For  the 
danger  we  cared  not ;  experience  had  long  ago  taught  ns 
that  brigands  never  infest  the  mountain  roads  by  night. 
But  we  had  only  ridden  a  very  short  distance  when  we 
found  that  the  path,  if  path  there  ever  had  been  from  Beth- 
shemesh  to  Beit  Nettif,  was  hopelessly  lost.  Our  situation 
was  anything  but  pleasant.  There  was  no  village  within 
miles  of  us.  We  thought  of  a  bivouac ;  but  our  poor  horses 
had  eaten  nothing  since  the  morning,  and  there  was  neither 
food  nor  water  for  them  here.  On  we  pressed,  therefore, 
over  rock  and  bank,  through  thicket  and  torrent-bed,  guided 
in  our  course  by  the  stars,  and  trusting  to  the  sagacity  of 
our  horses  for  the  rest.  For  nearly  three  weary  hours  we 
rode  on,  gradually  ascending,  and  then  reached  the  top  of 
a  rugged  ridge,  and  saw  lights  moving  about  before  us. 
We  fired  a  shot,  and  it  was  immediately  answered.  A 
shout  from  Selim  was  replied  to  by  our  muleteers  and  serv¬ 
ants,  who  had  come  in  search  of  us.  My  readers  may  well 
suppose  that  having  been  more  than  thirteen  hours  in  the 
saddle  we  were  ready  for  dinner  and  bed  on  reaching  our 
tents. 

THE  VALLEY  OF  ELAH. 

The  morning  sun  had  already  bathed  in  ruddy  light  the 
mountain  tops  round  Beit  Nettif,  and  thrown  their  shadows 
far  out  across  Philistia’s  plain,  when  mounting  our  horses 
we  began  the  steep  descent,  through  terraced  vineyards 
and  olive  groves,  to  “the  Valley  of  Elah.”  A  long  reach 
of  the  valley  lay  at  our  feet.  It  is  about  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  wide,  with  rich  alluvial  bottom,  and  sides  rising  steep¬ 
ly,  but  not  precipitously,  to  the  height  of  five  hundred  feet 
or  more.  Through  the  centre  winds  a  torrent  bed,  now 
dry,  but  thickly  covered  with  smooth  white  stones,  and 
fringed  with  shrubs.  On  reaching  the  valley  we  turned  to 
the  right  and  rode  about  a  mile  down  it  through  corn  fields. 


BATTLE  OF  DAVID  AND  GOLIATH. 


223 


Then  we  saw  on  the  left  bank  above  us  the  grey  ruins  of 
Shocoh,  and  we  knew  that  we  now  stood  on  the  battle-field 
of  David  and  Goliath.  “  The  Philistines  gathered  together 
their  armies  to  battle,  and  were  gathered  together  at  JSho- 

coh . And  Saul  and  the  men  of  Israel  were  gathered 

together,  and  pitched  by  the  Valley  of  Elah,  and  set  the 
battle  in  array  against  the  Philistines.  And  the  Philis¬ 
tines  stood  on  a  mountain  on  the  one  side ,  and  Israel 
stood  on  a  mountain  on  the  other  side  /  and  there  was  a 
valley  between  them  ”  (1  Sam.  xvii.  1,  et  seq.)  We  saw 
the  positions  of  the  two  armies  at  a  single  glance.  The 
Philistines  were  ranged  along  the  side  of  the  ridge  at  Sho¬ 
coh,  and  the  Israelites  occupied  the  declivity  opposite.  Be¬ 
tween  them  lay  the  valley, — then  called  Elah ,  from  its 
“  terebinth  ”  trees ;  and  now  Sumpt ,  from  its  “  acacias.” 
Down  that  left  bank  came  Goliath,  his  brazen  armour  glit¬ 
tering  in  the  sunbeams;  down  the  opposite  bank  came 
David  with  his  sling  and  staff.  Reaching  the  torrent-bed 
he  selected  “  five  smooth  stones,”  and  put  them  in  his  scrip. 
“Am  I  a  dog,”  cried  the  haughty  Philistine,  looking  at 
David’s  boyish  face  and  simple  equipments,  “that  thou 
comest  to  me  with  staves ? ”  “I  come  to  thee,”  replied  the 
youth,  “  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  of  Hosts,  the  God  of  Is¬ 
rael,  whom  thou  hast  defied.”  The  stone  was  fixed ;  the 
sling  was  whirled  round  by  a  skilful  hand ;  with  a  sharp 
twang  the  missile  flew  and  pierced  the  brain  of  the  impious 
giant.  His  own  sword  did  the  rest.  According  to  the  cus¬ 
tom  of  the  time,  David  took  the  head  and  the  spoils  of  his 
foe,  and  carried  them  back  to  his  comrades.  The  Philis¬ 
tines  fled  in  confusion ;  and  the  Israelites  raising  a  shout  of 
triumph  hurried  away  in  pursuit. 

I  too  went  down  into  that  torrent-bed,  as  near  as  I  could 
judge  to  the  spot  where  David  “chose  the  five  smooth 
stones,”  and  I  brought  away  “  a  smooth  stone,”  which  I 
still  retain  as  a  memorial  of  the  battle-field,  and  of  one  of 
the  happiest  days  of  my  life.  Then  turning  from  the  Yal- 


224 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  PHILISTINES. 


ley  of  Elah,  and  from  border  land,  I  struck  up  the  rugged 
path  that  leads  over  the  mountains  to  Hebron;  and  thus 
ended  my  ride  through  the  land  of  the  Philistines. 
That  ride,  with  another  along  a  different  route  made  at  a 
later  period,  gave  me  a  clearer  understanding  of  some  of  the 
most  interesting  episodes  in  Scripture  history,  than  I  could 
ever  have  obtained  otherwise.  The  early  intercourse  of  the 
patriarchs  with  the  Philistine  lords,  the  campaign  of  Josh¬ 
ua,  the  restoration  of  the  ark,  the  romantic  story  of  Sam¬ 
son,  and  the  brilliant  victory  of  David,  became,  when  read 
on  the  scenes  of  action,  glowing  life  pictures.  Nowhere 
else  in  all  my  wanderings  through  Bible  lands  did  the  har¬ 
mony  between  the  Land  and  the  Book  appear  more  strik¬ 
ing,  more  perfect,  than  in  the  plain  of  Philistia. 


GALILEE  AND  THE  SEA-COAST. 


I. 


Sfrarott  anil  CarmtI. 


“  The  glory  of  Leb&non  shall  be  given  unto  it,  the  excellency  of  Carmel  and  Sharon. 
they  shall  see  the  glory  of  the  Lord,  and  the  excellency  of  our  God.” — Isa.  xxxv.  2. 


HARON  and  Carmel  are  enshrined  in  sacred  poe¬ 
try.  In  addition  to  the  holy  associations  that 
cluster  round  them  as  scenes  of  Bible  history, 
they  bring  up  before  the  mind’s  eye  plains 
spangled  with  “  the  rose  of  Sharon,”  meadows  powdered 
with  “  the  lily  of  the  valley,”  uplands  waving  with  “  for¬ 
ests,”  and  mountains  crowned  with  “  the  excellency  of  Car¬ 
mel.”  Nor  are  one’s  glowing  expectations  much  disap¬ 
pointed  when  he  traverses  Sharon,  or  climbs  the  heights  of 
Carmel  in  early  spring.  The  plain  stretches  out  before 
him  as  far  as  the  eye  can  follow  it,  in  gentle  undulations  of 
luxuriant  pasture,  varied  here  and  there  by  a  clump  of  old 
forest  trees,  or  a  thicket  of  canes  and  shrubs  round  a  foun¬ 
tain,  or  a  grey  tell  strewn  with  the  ruins  of  some  primeval 
city.  And  the  mountain  chain  rises  in  easy  slopes,  wooded 
from  base  to  summit ;  seamed  by  many  a  glen,  and  broken 
by  many  a  cliff.  The  curse  has  fallen  lightly  upon  Sharon 
and  Carmel.  Still  it  is  true  that  the  great  cities  which  once 
lined  the  sea-board  are  gone.  The  restless  waves  dash  in 
sheets  of  foam  over  the  ingulphed  ruins  of  its  once  famous 
harbours.  Dor  and  Caesarea,  Hepha  and  Athlit,  are  no 
more.  Towns  and  villages  which  thickly  studded  in  an¬ 
cient  days  inland  plain  and  mountain  side,  are  gone  too. 
Corn  fields,  olive  groves,  and  vineyards  are  now  few  and 
far  between;  and  even  the  pastures  are  deserted  save  by 


228 


GALILEE  AND  THE  SEA-COAST. 


the  flocks  of  a  few  poor  nomads.  Notwithstanding  the 
grass,  and  the  flowers,  and  the  beauty  of  Sharon,  it  “  is  like 
a  wilderness.”  “Its  highways  lie  waste,  the  wayfaring 
man  ceaseth”  (Isa.  xxxiii.  9).  And  notwithstanding  Car¬ 
mel’s  waving  woods  and  green  forest  glades,  it  has  “  shaken 
off  its  fruit,” — the  fruit  of  human  industry.  The  mountain 
still  deserves  its  ancient  name,  “  the  fruitful.”  The  “  ex¬ 
cellency  ( beauty )  of  Carmel  ”  is  yet  conspicuous ;  but  even 
there,  in  the  loveliest  glades  and  richest  dells,  solitude  keeps 
unbroken  sabbath. 


SOUTHERN  SHARON. 

My  first  view  of  Sharon  was  from  the  sea.  From  the 
vessel’s  deck  I  looked  with  as  much  eagerness  as  an  old 
Crusader  on  the  white  strand,  and  the  sandy  downs,  and 
the  broad  plain,  shut  in  on  the  east  by  the  blue  hills  of 
Samaria.  The  cape  of  Carmel  was  far  behind  me,  dipping 
gracefully,  but  not  so  “bluff”  as  is  usually  represented  in 
pictures,  into  the  Mediterranean.  Away  far  ahead  a  little 
white  rounded  hill  began  to  rise  slowly  from  a  flat  coast. 
“  What  hill  is  that  ?”  I  asked  of  the  French  officer  at  my 
side.  “  That  is  Joppa.”  “  And  those  ruins  we  passed 
some  time  ago,  which  you  can  yet  see  yonder  glittering  in 
the  sun — what  are  they?”  “The  ruins  of  Caesarea,”  was 
the  reply.  Historic  names  are  wonderfully  suggestive. 
Especially  so  when  connected  with  sacred  history,  and 
when  the  eye  first  rests  on  the  places  to  which  they  are 
attached.  Memory  then  becomes  a  diorama.  It  brings 
before  us  the  great  events  of  other  ages.  So  it  was  with 
me.  In  succession  I  saw  the  ships  of  Hiram  conducting 
rafts  of  cedar  and  pine  along  the  sea  to  Joppa  for  Solomon’s 
Temple.  I  saw  the  great  merchant  vessel  of  Adramyttium 
leaving  the  harbour  of  Caesarea,  while  on  its  deck  stood  the 
Apostle  of  the  Gentiles,  guarded  by  Roman  soldiers,  and 
with  fettered  hands  waving  a  final  adieu  to  weeping  friends. 
I  saw  the  proud  galleys  of  the  Crusaders  bearing  down 


JOPPA. 


229 


upon  the  shore,  crowded  with  mail-clad  knights,  Europe’s 
best  and  bravest  warriors,  bent  on  the  recovery  of  the  Holy 
Sepulchre.  And  then,  when  the  picture  vanished,  my  eye 
rested  on  deserted  harbours,  ruined  cities,  a  dreary  desolate 
shore,  silent  alike  to  the  bustle  of  commerce  and  the  din  of 
battle ;  as  if  to  show  that  while  man  is  mortal,  his  glory 
fleeting,  and  all  his  works  perishable,  God’s  Word  is  true 
and  can  never  fail.  Five  and  twenty  centuries  ago  that 
Word  pronounced  the  doom  of  Palestine:  “I  beheld,  and, 
lo,  the  fruitful  place  (Hebrew  Carmel)  was  a  wilderness, 
and  all  the  cities  thereof  were  broken  down  at  the  presence 
of  the  Lord,  and  by  his  fierce  anger.  For  thus  hath  the 
Lord  said,  The  whole  land  shall  be  desolate”  (Jer.  iv.  26). 

I  landed  at  Joppa,  a  bustling  town  of  five  thousand  in¬ 
habitants,  beautifully  situated  on  the  western  slope  of  a 
hill,  looking  down  into  the  blue  waters  of  the  Mediterran¬ 
ean.  It  is  still  the  port  of  Jerusalem ;  but  it  has  no  har¬ 
bour,  and  it  is  only  under  favourable  circumstances  of 
wind  and  weather  a  vessel  can  ride  at  the  distance  of  a  mile 
or  so  from  the  shore.  Guided  by  a  young  Jew  I  went  at 
once  to  “the  house  of  Simon  the  tanner.”  The  house  is 
modern,  but  it  probably  occupies  the  old  site,  for  its  Mo¬ 
hammedan  owner  considers  it  sacred.  It  stands  “by  the 
sea-side,”  as  St.  Luke  tells  us  (Acts  x.  6) ;  and  from  its 
roof — “  flat  ”  now  as  in  ancient  times — I  looked  out  on  that 
same  boundless  sea  on  which  the  apostle  must  have  looked 
when  “  he  went  up  upon  the  house-top  to  pray.”  The  hour 
too  was  the  same — “  the  sixth  hour,”  or  noon.  There  was 
something  deeply  impressive  in  being  thus  brought  as  it 
were  into  immediate  connection  with  that  wondrous  vision 
which  the  Lord  employed  as  a  key  to  open  the  Gentile 
world  to  Christ’s  Gospel. 

From  Simon’s  house  I  went  through  crooked  streets  to 
the  top  of  the  hill.  The  way  was  not  pleasant,  but  the 
glorious  view  amply  repaid  me.  On  the  land  side  Joppa 
is  girt  about  with  its  orchards — the  finest  in  Palestine,  and, 


230 


GALILEE  AND  THE  SEA-COAST. 


perhaps,  unsurpassed  in  the  world.  Away  beyond  them 
spreads  out  a  boundless  plain ;  on  the  north  Sharon ,  and 
on  the  south  Pliilistia.  My  eye  soon  caught  and  followed 
the  line  of  the  old  road  which  winds  northward  along  the 
coast  to  Csesarea.  That  was  the  road  by  which  the  apostle 
Peter  went  on  his  divine  mission  to  Cornelius,  (Acts  x.) 
Lydda  was  hid  behind  a  rising  ground ;  but  the  mountains 
of  Judah  were  sharply  defined  against  the  bright  eastern 
sky,  and  their  colouring  was  beautiful — shaded  off  from  soft 
greyish  blue  to  deep  purple. 

To  procure  horses  and  a  guide  was  a  work  of  time  and 
trouble,  and  the  afternoon  was  far  advanced  ere  I  rode  out 
of  the  crowded  gate  of  Joppa.  How  pleasant  was  the 
change  from  the  heat  and  dust  of  the  narrow  streets  to  the 
freedom  and  freshness  of  the  country !  It  was  autumn ; 
and  never  did  autumn’s  richness  appear  to  greater  advan¬ 
tage  than  in  these  orchards  of  Sharon.  Orange,  lemon,  and 
citron  trees  were  there  laden  with  golden  fruit.  Among 
them  appeared  the  russet  foliage  and  bright  red  globes  of 
the  pomegranate.  Here  and  there  the  broad-leafed  banana 
grew  in  wild  luxuriance,  shut  in  by  tall  hedges  and  impen¬ 
etrable  thickets  of  cactus ;  while  ever  and  anon  palm  trees 
shot  up  far  overhead,  as  if  to  show  the  great  clusters  of 
dates  that  hung  round  their  tapering  necks,  or  to  entice  the 
soft  evening  breezes  to  sport  with  their  feathery  foliage. 

I  took  the  road  to  Lydda — the  same  road  by  which 
Peter  was  brought  to  raise  Dorcas  from  the  dead,  after  he 
had,  by  his  miraculous  cure  of  Eneas,  converted  “  all  that 
dwelt  in  Lydda  and  Saron ,”  (the  Greek  form  of  Sharon , 
Acts  ix.  34,  seq.)  For  more  than  an  hour  I  rode  through 
those  shady,  fragrant  orchards,  and  then  crossed  the  grey 
monotonous  plain  to  Lydda.  Thence  I  went  to  the  ancient 
Gimzo  (2  Chron.  xxviii.  1 8) ,  now  a  poor  village,  and  on¬ 
ward  to  the  pass  of  Beth-horon,  up  which  I  wound  my  way 
to  Gibeon  and  Jerusalem.  The  southern  end  of  Sharon, 
which  I  thus  crossed,  measures  about  fifteen  miles ;  while 


SAMARIA. 


231 


the  length  of  the  plain  from  Joppa  to  Carmel  is  nearly  fifty. 
In  addition  to  Joppa  and  Lydda,  there  are  ten  or  twelve 
villages  in  this  part  of  the  plain,  and  small  portions  of  the 
rich  soil  are  cultivated  by  their  inhabitants;  but  further 
north  the  country  is  almost  deserted. 

NORTHERN  SHARON. 

We  halted  at  the  western  gate  of  Samaria,  waiting  for 
one  or  two  stragglers,  and  to  take  a  last  look  at  the  place. 
The  gate  is  a  shapeless  heap  of  ruins,  forming  the  termina¬ 
tion  of  the  well-known  colonnade.  I  was  never  more  deeply 
impressed  with  the  minute  accuracy  of  prophetic  descrip¬ 
tion,  and  the  literal  fulfilment  of  every  detail,  than  when 
standing  on  that  spot.  Samaria  occupied  one  of  the  finest 
sites  in  Palestine, — a  low,  rounded  hill,  in  the  centre  of  a 
rich  valley,  encircled  by  picturesque  mountains.  Temples 
and  palaces  once  adorned  it,  famed  throughout  the  East  for 
the  splendour  of  their  architecture.  But  the  destroyer  has 
passed  over  it.  I  saw  that  long  line  of  broken  shafts  with 
the  vines  growing  luxuriantly  round  their  bases — I  saw  a 
group  of  columns  in  a  corn-field  on  the  hill-top — I  saw  hewn 
and  sculptured  blocks  of  marble  and  limestone  in  the  rude 
walls  of  the  terraced  vineyards — I  saw  great  heaps  of  stones 
and  rubbish  among  the  olive  groves  in  the  bottom  of  the 
valley  far  below — but  I  saw  no  other  trace  of  the  city 
founded  by  Omri  and  adorned  by  Herod.  One  would  think 
the  prophet  Micah  had  seen  that  desolate  site  as  I  saw  it, 
his  description  is  so  graphic : — “  I  will  make  Samaria  as  an 
heap  of  the  field,  and  as  plantings  of  a  vineyard ;  and  I 
will  pour  down  the  stones  thereof  into  the  valley ,  and  I 
will  discover  the  foundations  thereof ”  (Micah  i.  6). 

Our  road — a  mere  goat-track — led  down  the  hill  side 
through  fields  of  ripe  grain,  in  which  the  reapers  were  at 
work,  though  it  was  still  early  in  May.  We  soon  entered 
Wady  Shair,  a  prolongation  of  the  fertile  and  beautiful  val¬ 
ley  which  separates  Ebal  and  Gerizim,  and  at  the  head  of 


282 


GALILEE  AND  THE  SEA-COAST. 


which  stands  Nabulus,  the  modern  representative  of  She* 
chem.  Down  it  wound  our  long  cavalcade,  through  corn¬ 
fields  and  olive  groves,  and  past  threshing-floors  already 
heaped  up  with  the  fruits  of  the  early  harvest.  I  observed 
with  interest  how  masters  and  servants  were  there  grouped 
together — the  sheikh  in  his  scarlet  mantle,  and  the  stalwart 
fellah  in  his  coat  of  many  colours.  Women  and  children 
too  were  there,  and  cooking  utensils,  and  beds,  showing  that 
the  harvest  scenes  of  modern  days  among  the  villages  of 
Palestine  are  just  the  same  as  those  we  read  of  in  the  Book 
of  Ruth. 

After  a  three  hours’  march  we  defiled  from  the  valley 
into  the  plain  of  Sharon.  Up  among  the  mountains  where 
the  valley  was  narrow,  and  the  declivities  steep  and  rugged, 
nearly  every  available  spot  was  cultivated,  and  populous 
villages  appeared  on  each  side.  Here,  on  looking  over  the 
broad  fertile  plain,  not  a  human  habitation  was  visible,  and 
only  a  few  patches  of  the  soil  near  the  base  of  the  moun¬ 
tains  were  under  culture.  Vineyards  and  olive  groves  have 
disappeared.  Traces  of  the  Roman  road  which  once  con¬ 
nected  the  great  cities  of  Caesarea  and  Sebaste  are  there, 
but  it  is  overgrown  with  thistles  and  rank  grass ;  and  in  a 
ride  of  four  hours  we  did  not  see  a  solitary  traveller, — so 
true  is  it  that  “  the  highways  lie  waste,  and  the  wayfaring 
man  ceaseth.” 

We  turned  north-west  along  the  base  of  the  mountains. 
On  our  right,  perched  on  hill  top  or  standing  on  rocky 
slope,  were  a  few  small  half-ruinous  villages ;  while,  on  our 
left,  out  upon  the  plain,  we  saw  at  long  intervals  little  cir¬ 
clets  of  black  tents.  This  is  border  land,  between  plain  and 
mountain,  between  tent  and  house,  between  industrious  vil¬ 
lagers  and  wandering  vagabonds,  whose  hands,  like  those 
of  their  forefathers,  are  “  against  every  man.” 

We  found  our  tents  pitched  at  Bakah,  a  populous  village 
on  the  side  of  the  plain.  Its  inhabitants  are  rich,  well 
armed,  and  powerful.  They  wage  an  unceasing  warfare 


DANGEROUS  TRAVELLING. 


233 


with  the  Bedawin  who  infest  Sharon,  and  by  their  courage, 
watchfulness,  and  rifles,  they  manage  to  keep  them  at  a  re¬ 
spectful  distance.  We  were  no  little  amused  to  find  that 
the  escort  we  had  brought  from  the  Governor  of  FTabulus 
would  not  advance  an  inch  beyond  Bakah.  So  far  the  road 
was  perfectly  safe,  and  so  far  the  soldiers  guarded  us ;  but 
the  plain  westward  swarmed  with  BedaAvin,  among  whom 
the  soldiers  would  not  venture,  and  consequently,  pocket¬ 
ing  their  bakhshish ,  they  returned  in  peace  to  their  com¬ 
mander. 

From  Bakah  I  found  it  impossible  to  obtain  either  guide 
or  escort  to  Caesarea.  There  is  a  standing  blood-feud  be¬ 
tween  its  people  and  the  Hawara  Arabs,  who  roam  over 
the  intervening  plain.  But  I  arranged  with  the  village 
sheikh  to  conduct  our  party  to  a  neutral  tribe,  with  whom 
he  assured  us  an  arrangement  could  be  effected.  He  did 
not  fail  to  advise  us,  however,  to  turn  back  into  the  moun¬ 
tains,  and  proceed  northward  by  a  less  dangerous  route. 
This  did  not  suit  my  plans ;  but  as  some  ladies  had  joined 
my  party,  I  thought  it  necessary  to  inform  them  and  their 
companions  of  the  true  state  of  matters,  and  to  show  them 
how  they  might  escape  all  danger  by  taking  another  route. 
In  reply,  they  asked  me  if  I  intended  to  go  to  Caesarea. 
“  Most  assuredly,”  I  said.  “  Then  we  shall  go  too.” 

Our  party  mustered  at  sun-rise,  and  set  out  at  once,  led 
by  two  sheikhs  splendidly  mounted,  and  armed  with  tufted 
lances,  carabines,  and  pistols.  The  caravan  had  a  formidable 
look.  Every  rifle  was  unslung.  The  muleteers  and  servants, 
with  their  guns  on  their  shoulders,  kept  close  together  in 
the  centre,  while  a  few  active  villagers  brought  up  the 
rear.  We  numbered  about  forty  animals,  and  as  many  men. 
Recent  disturbances  among  the  Arab  tribes  made  the  road 
unusually  dangerous ;  and  as  our  friends  of  Bakah  had,  only 
two  days  previously,  killed  three  of  a  plundering  party  of 
Sukrs,  they  were  now  apprehensive  of  an  attack  in  greater 
force.  For  the  first  half  hour  we  traversed  the  cultivated 


234 


GALILEE  AND  THE  SEA-COAST. 


fields  of  Bakah,  and  then  entered  a  wild  rugged  district. 
Low  rocky  spurs  project  from  the  mountains  into  the  plain, 
sprinkled  with  oak  trees,  and  covered  with  dense  jungles 
of  thorns  and  thistles — such  thistles  as  are  only  seen  in 
Palestine,  often  as  tall  as  a  man  on  horseback.  We  had 
gone  but  a  short  distance  when  one  of  our  leaders  raised  a 
cry  of  alarm.  I  galloped  to  the  front,  and  saw  a  number  of 
Bedawin  lurking  among  the  trees.  Fortunately  the  path 
was  tolerably  wide.  We  drew  up  the  horsemen  on  each 
side,  placed  the  ladies  and  baggage  animals  in  the  centre, 
and  then  marched  in  military  order.  It  was  an  anxious 
moment.  We  knew  not  at  what  point  the  enemy  might 
assail  us,  or  in  what  force  they  might  come.  For  about  an 
hour  we  advanced  through  the  tangled  thicket  cautiously 
and  silently.  Then,  with  feelings  of  relief,  we  defiled  into 
the  open  plain,  and  rode  over  it  half  a  mile  to  a  large  foun¬ 
tain. 

The  scene  round  this  fountain  was  thoroughly  oriental. 
A  tribe  of  semi-nomads  were  assembled  on  their  threshing- 
floors,  all  busily  engaged  in  the  various  details  of  “treading 
out  the  corn,”  winnowing,  and  carrying  off  the  grain  to 
subterranean  magazines.  Every  man  had  his  gun  within 
reach.  Some  were  driving  the  oxen  with  muskets  slung 
on  their  shoulders  and  pistols  in  their  belts.  Women  were 
there  too — bold,  stalwart  women,  whose  look  and  mien  re¬ 
minded  one  of  Deborah  and  Jael — armed  with  heavy  clubs, 
partly  intended  to  help  their  husbands  in  case  of  attack, 
and  partly  to  toss  up  the  grain  and  straw  on  the  “  floors.” 
A  number  of  horsemen,  acting  as  patrols,  scoured  the  neigh¬ 
bouring  heights  to  give  timely  notice  of  an  enemy.  The 
moment  we  emerged  from  the  oak  forests  the  patrols  gal¬ 
loped  in,  and  the  men  and  women  prepared,  with  a  skill 
and  quickness  that  would  have  done  credit  to  regular 
troops,  for  defending  their  position. 

Our  Bakah  escort  could  conduct  us  no  farther.  The 
out-posts  of  the  Hawara  and  Sukr  were  not  far  distant. 


ADVENTURE  WITH  BEDAWIN. 


235 


We  were  consequently  delivered  over  to  this  neutral  tribe. 
After  much  difficulty  and  long  negotiation,  we  succeeded 
in  persuading  two  footmen  to  guide  us  to  Caesarea.  We 
had  to  abandon  all  idea  of  an  escort,  for  we  were  plainly 
told  that  we  must  defend  ourselves  in  case  of  attack,  and 
that  the  guides  would  not  interfere  in  any  quarrel.  Be¬ 
fore  parting,  the  guides  very  deliberately  proceeded  to  di¬ 
vest  themselves  of  every  decent  bit  of  clothing  they  pos¬ 
sessed  ;  even  guns,  and  pistols,  and  daggers  were  laid  aside. 
Retaining  each  a  tattered  shirt,  and  a  bit  of  rag  for  a  tur¬ 
ban,  they  took  a  couple  of  clubs  from  the  women,  and  led 
us  on. 

We  set  out  due  west,  through  corn-fields  recently  reaped. 
In  a  quarter  of  an  hour  all  cultivation  ceased.  The  plain 
extended  away  before  us,  not  flat,  but  in  graceful  undula¬ 
tions,  covered  with  rank  grass,  and  weeds,  and  tall  this¬ 
tles.  Clumps  of  trees  were  studded  here  and  there  over  it. 
Away  on  the  left,  about  two  miles  distant,  was  the  long 
dark  line  of  an  oak  forest  shutting  in  the  view,  while  about 
an  equal  distance  on  the  right  were  the  roots  of  Carmel 
shooting  down  into  the  plain  in  picturesque  wooded  pro¬ 
montories.  The  whole  landscape  reminded  me  of  some  of 
the  noble  parks  of  Old  England.  The  only  living  creatures 
in  sight  for  miles  were  some  flocks  of  gazelles. 

There  was  no  path,  and  no  impediment,  and  so  we  rode 
straight  forward  to  the  white  sand  hills  faintly  visible  on 
the  horizon.  We  had  got  about  half-way,  when,  on  top¬ 
ping  a  rising  ground,  we  found  before  us  a  depression  or 
valley,  all  cultivated.  Here  a  number  of  men  were  at 
work ; — some  gathering  in  the  newly-reaped  grain,  some  on 
the  threshing-floors  with  yokes  of  oxen,  some  tending  herds 
of  cattle,  and  a  goodly  number  on  horseback  scouring  the 
surrounding  country.  Our  sudden  appearance  created  a 
great  commotion.  The  size  of  our  party,  the  glittering  of 
our  arms,  and  our  warlike  aspect,  made  them  believe  that 
a  Bedawy  G-huzu  was  upon  them.  The  workmen  fled,  the 


236 


GALILEE  AND  THE  SEA-COAST. 


shepherds  drove  in  the  cattle,  the  horsemen  galloped  round, 
urging  them  on  with  their  spears ;  and  in  a  very  few  min¬ 
utes  they  were  all  concentrated  on  a  little  knoll,  prepared 
for  defence.  We  passed  half  a  mile  to  the  south  of  the 
gathering-place;  but  here  we  unwittingly  cut  off  a  small 
party  of  some  seven  or  eight  men,  engaged  with  their  har¬ 
vest  in  a  retired  glen.  On  seeing  us  they  fled,  leaving  don¬ 
keys,  and  oxen,  and  even  clothes,  as  they  believed,  at  the 
mercy  of  the  spoilers.  Riding  onwards  at  a  sharp  pace, 
.  we  entered  a  valley,  where  we  halted  for  a  few  minutes  to 
examine  an  old  building,  apparently  a  fortified  caravan¬ 
serai.  While  scattered  about  the  ruins,  we  were  startled 
by  a  wild  shout,  and,  looking  up,  we  saw  a  party  of  Ha- 
wara  dashing  down  upon  us  at  full  galloj).  A  word  was 
given,  and  in  a  moment  we  drew  together,  formed  a  line  in 
front  of  the  ladies,  and  prepared  to  give  the  Arabs  a  warm 
reception  should  they  venture  on  an  attack.  Our  bold 
front,  and  the  sight  of  a  formidable  file  of  English  rifles, 
cooled  their  ardour.  They  reined  up,  and  looked  steadily 
at  us,  as  if  trying  to  note  a  single  sign  of  wavering  or  fear. 
While  standing  there  they  formed  as  wild  and  picturesque 
a  group  as  ever  peaceful  pilgrims  encountered,  or  wandering 
artist  sketched.  Their  lances  poised  high  overhead,  the 
bright  steel  points  glittering  in  the  midst  of  black  tufts  of 
feathers — their  arms  and  legs  bare — their  hair  streaming  in 
long  plaited  locks  over  breast  and  shoulders — their  faces 
bronzed,  and  their  eyes  flashing  with  excitement — and 
their  noble  horses,  with  curved  neck  and  expanded  nostril, 
more  eager  for  the  fray  even  than  their  riders.  We  could 
not  but  admire  those  wild  children  of  the  desert,  worthy 
representatives  of  their  progenitor  Ishmael. 

While  the  balance  hung  between  peace  and  war,  the 
ladies,  with  a  coolness  and  a  “  pluck  ”  that  would  have 
done  honour  to  veteran  campaigners,  were  quietly  passing 
remarks  on  the  proud  bearing  and  strange  costume  of  the 
Bedawin;  and  one  of  them — a  daughter  of  the  most  dis- 


RUINS  OF  (LESAREA. 


287 


tinguished  prelate  that  ever  adorned  the  Irish  Church — took 
out  her  book  and  pencil  to  sketch  the  scene.  I  shall  never 
forget  the  astonished  look  of  the  Hawara  chief,  as  he  ex¬ 
claimed,  on  seeing  this  act,  “  By  the  life  of  the  Prophet ! 
the  Englishwoman  is  writing  us  down  !  ” 

The  courage  of  the  ladies  produced  apparently  as  power¬ 
ful  an  effect  as  the  sight  of  our  rifles  and  revolvers.  But 
be  this  as  it  may,  the  Hawara  thought  discretion  the  bet¬ 
ter  part  of  valour.  Shouting  a  friendly  Scdamu  aleikum — 
“  Peace  be  with  you !  ” — they  wheeled  round  their  horses 
and  galloped  off.  We  watched  their  movements,  fearing 
that  they  might  return  in  greater  force.  But  we  saw  them 
strike  off  northward,  until,  coming  upon  a  couple  of  poor 
fishermen  on  the  banks  of  the  Crocodile  River,  they  seized 
them,  and  left  them,  in  point  of  costume,  precisely  as  the 
thieves  left  the  man  who  “went  down  from  Jerusalem  to 
Jericho.” 

Such  is  modern  life  on  the  plain  of  Sharon.  “No  flesh 
has  peace”  there.  Those  who  venture  to  till  the  soil  must 
guard  the  fruit  of  their  labours  with  the  sword,  and  even 
risk  life  to  save  property.  “  Sharon  is  a  wilderness,”  and 
through  that  wilderness  the  “  spoilers  now  come  upon  all 
high  places”  (Jer.  xii.  12). 

CJESAREA. 

We  were  just  two  hours  and  a  half  in  crossing  the  plain, 
and  it  was  not  yet  noon  when  we  entered  the  southern  or 
Joppa  gate  of  Caesarea.  Caesarea  was  the  capital  of  Pales¬ 
tine  in  the  days  of  the  apostles ;  it  was  the  favourite  resi¬ 
dence  of  that  Herod  who  “  killed  James  the  brother  of 
John  with  the  sword;”  and  it  was  the  scene  of  the  tyrant’s 
awful  death,  recorded  in  Acts  xii.  21-23.  The  city  was 
closely  connected  with  the  early  history  of  the  Apostolic 
Church.  Philip,  after  baptizing  the  Ethiopian  eunuch, 
passed  through  Philistia  and  Sharon,  “  preaching  in  all  the 
cities,  till  he  came  to  Caesarea”  (Acts  viii.  26-40).  Pe- 


238 


GALILEE  AND  THE  SEA-COAST. 


ter  here  first  preached  the  gospel  to  Gentiles,  and  here  he 
baptized  Cornelius,  the  first  Gentile  convert  (x.  47).  It 
was  to  Caesarea  Paul  was  brought  a  prisoner  from  Jeru¬ 
salem.  It  was  in  the  palace  in  this  city  he  so  spake  of 
“righteousness,  temperance,  and  judgment  to  come,”  that 
he  made  Felix  tremble.  It  was  here  the  power  of  his  logic 
forced  King  Agrippa  to  exclaim,  “  Almost  thou  persuadest 
me  to  be  a  Christian.”  And  it  was  from  this  harbour  he 
embarked  on  his  long  and  eventful  voyage  to  Pome  (Acts 
xxiii.  33;  xxiv.  25  ;  xxvi.  28;  xxvii.  1,  2).  Here  Eusebius, 
the  father  of  ecclesiastical  history,  spent  nearly  his  whole 
life,  having  been  bishop  of  the  diocese  for  a  quarter  of  a 
century  (a.d.  315-340).  Here,  too,  Procopius  was  born  in 
the  beginning  of  the  sixth  century.  The  city  was  thus  the 
home  of  two  of  the  greatest  historians  of  antiquity. 

In  passing  through  the  gate  of  Caesarea,  I  felt  that  I 
was  indeed  entering  a  “  holy  and  historic  jfiace ;  ”  ami  I 
envy  not  the  Christian  or  the  scholar  who  could  tread  that 
site  and  look  on  those  ruins  without  experiencing  such  a 
sense  of  mingled  awe  and  reverence,  and  inspiring  sympa¬ 
thy,  as  is  ever  awakened  in  the  mind  by  the  immediate 
presence  of  the  great  and  the  good.  In  only  a  very  few 
other  cities  of  Palestine  was  I  so  deeply  impressed,  so 
strangely  and  powerfully  excited,  by  the  religio  loci.  The 
profound  silence,  the  utter  desolation,  the  total  absence  of 
every  sign  of  human  life,  left  me  alone,  as  it  were,  with  the 
sacred  associations  and  stirring  memories  of  the  past.  The 
gate  by  which  Peter  entered  was  there ;  the  ruins  of  the 
palace  in  which  Paul  preached  were  there ;  the  remains  of 
the  harbor  in  which  he  embarked  were  there ;  the  massive 
fragments  of  Eusebius’  church  were  there ;  the  walls  which 
the  brave  Crusaders  built  were  there.  Every  great  event 
in  the  sacred  and  civil  history  of  the  city  was  localized,  and 
fancy  grouped  again  the  old  actors  of  the  old  scenes. 

The  ruins  of  Caesarea  lie  close  along  the  winding  shore, 
projecting  here  and  there  into  the  sea,  and  presenting  huge 


DESOLATION. 


239 


masses  of  shattered  masonry  and  piles  of  granite  columns 
to  the  restless  waves.  In  the  interior  all  is  ruin.  Not  a 
building  remains  entire.  Not  even  the  foundations  of  a 
building  can  be  fully  traced.  Heaps  of  stones  and  rubbish, 
here  a  solitary  column,  there  a  disjointed  arch,  yonder  a 
fragment  of  a  wall — all  encompassed  or  overgrown  with 
thorns,  and  briars,  and  thistles,  intermixed  in  spring  with 
myriads  of  yellow  marigolds  and  scarlet  poppies.  The 
famous  harbour  is  choked  up  with  sand  and  rubbish ;  and 
the  great  mole  now  forms  that  picturesque  group  of  broken, 
sea-beaten  masonry,  which  projects  far  into  the  sea,  and 
constitutes  the  most  striking  feature  in  the  well-known 
sketches  of  Bartlett,  Tipping,  and  others.  I  wandered  for 
hours  among  the  ruins  of  Caesarea.  The  sighing  of  the 
wind  among  the  broken  walls,  the  deep  moan  of  the  sea  as 
each  wave  broke  upon  the  cavernous  ruins  of  the  ancient 
harbour,  were  the  only  sounds  I  heard.  I  saw  no  man. 
The  Arab  and  the  shepherd  avoid  the  spot.  The  very 
birds  and  beasts  seem  to  shun  it.  The  only  living  creature 
I  saw  during  my  stay  was  a  jackal  in  one  of  the  crypts  of 
the  cathedral. 

Eight  miles  north  of  Caesarea  is  Tantura,  a  small  vil¬ 
lage,  built  on  an  open  sandy  beach.  Near  it  are  the  ruins 
of  the  ancient  city  of  Dor ,  whose  ruler  was  an  ally  of 
Jabin,  King  of  Hazor,  and  one  of  the  opponents  of  Joshua 
(Josh.  xi.  1,  2).  We  encamped  for  the  night  on  the  site, 
and  next  morning  rode  northward  along  the  shore  to  Car¬ 
mel.  The  only  place  we  passed  worthy  of  note  was  the 
massive  and  picturesque  fortress  of  Athlit,  built  on  a  rock 
which  juts  out  into  the  sea.  The  Crusaders  called  it 
Castellum  Peregrinorum ,  “Pilgrim’s  Castle,”  because  it 
was  a  favourite  landing-place  for  pilgrims  on  their  way  to 
the  Holy  City.  Near  it  I  observed  an  old  road  hewn 
through  a  cliff ;  and  in  its  rocky  floor  the  chariots  have  worn 
deep  ruts,  which  reminded  me  of  those  in  the  streets  of 
Pompeii. 


11 


240 


*  GALILEE  AND  THE  SEA-COAST. 


CAKMEL. 

The  good  monks  of  the  Convent  of  Carmel  gave  us  a 
cordial  welcome;  and  their  neat  rooms  and  clean  beds 
formed  real  luxuries,  which  those  only  can  fully  appreciate 
who  have  spent  weeks  in  camp-life.  One  of  the  sweetest 
retreats,  one  of  the  most  charming  resting-places  for  the 
pilgrim  in  Palestine,  is  the  Convent  of  Mount  Carmel.  Here 
is  a  house  that  would  not  disgrace  royalty;  here  are  men 
whose  intelligence  and  genial  bonhomie  even  a  cowl  can¬ 
not  cover ;  here  is  air  cool  and  bracing  during  the  hot¬ 
test  summer  day;  and  here  is  a  noble  site,  looking  away 
out  over  the  deep  blue  sea,  commanding  the  classic  shores 
of  Phoenicia,  and  showing  the  snow-crowned  peaks  of  Le¬ 
banon  and  Hermon  over  the  “  excellency  of  Carmel.” 

Carmel  has  many  attractions  for  the  naturalist,  the  an¬ 
tiquarian,  and  the  classical  scholar,  as  well  as  for  the  stu¬ 
dent  of  the  Bible.  Its  ridge,  descending  on  one  side  into 
the  rich  plain  of  Acre,  and  on  the  other,  to  the  green  vale 
of  Dor  or  Sharon,  contains  some  of  the  most  pleasing,  park¬ 
like  scenery  in  Palestine.  The  wood  that  clothes  it  is 
chiefly  prickly  oak,  a  beautiful  evergreen ;  so  that  while  the 
“ excellency  of  Carmel”  (Isa.  xxxv.  2)  might  well  be  re¬ 
garded  as  a  type  of  natural  beauty,  the  “  withering  ”  of 
its  foliage  (Amos  i.  2 ;  Isa.  xxxiii.  9)  ought  to  be  consid¬ 
ered  as  an  emblem  of  national  desolation.  The  forest 
glades  of  Carmel  are  spangled  with  flowers  of  every  hue. 
The  thickets  abound  in  game,  and  are  also  infested  with 
wolves,  hyenas,  and  leopards. 

The  sides  of  the  mountain  near  the  convent  are  filled  with 
caves  and  grottoes,  which  formed  the  abodes  of  hermits  in 
ancient  days.  The  largest  of  these  is  called  the  “  Cave  of 
the  Prophets,”  because  Elijah  is  said  to  have  received  the 
chiefs  of  the  people  there.  It  is  a  plain,  rock-hewn  cham¬ 
ber,  with  Greek  names  and  inscriptions  on  the  walls.  In 
the  fields  below  it  great  numbers  of  stones  may  be  seen, 


241 


scene  of  Elijah’s  sacrifice. 

which  resemble  melons  and  olives.  The  former  are  flints, 
with  beautiful  sparry  matter  inside ;  and  the  latter  are  good 
specimens  of  the  fossil  echinus. 

scene  of  Elijah’s  sacrifice. 

Carmel  is  chiefly  celebrated  as  the  scene  of  Elijah’s  sacri¬ 
fice.  The  exact  spot  is  marked  by  local  tradition,  by  the 
agreement  of  its  physical  features  with  the  Scripture  nar¬ 
rative,  and  by  its  name,  el-Muhrakuh ,  “  The  Sacrifice.”  It 
is  about  six  hours  ride  from  the  convent,  over  the  crest  of 
the  ridge.  I  visited  it  from  the  Plain  of  Esdraelon,  on  the 
opposite  or  eastern  side.  It  is  on  the  brow  of  the  moun¬ 
tain,  and  commands  the  whole  plain  to  J ezreel  and  Tabor. 
Close  to  the  base  of  the  range,  below  the  spot,  flows  the 
river  Kishon,  where  the  prophets  of  Baal  were  slain ;  and 
just  above  the  spot  is  a  projecting  peak,  from  which  Elijah’s 
servant  saw  the  “  little  cloud,  like  a  man’s  hand,  rising  out 
of  the  sea,”  (1  Kings  xviii.) 

Another  episode  of  Bible  history  I  read  with  new  inter¬ 
est  in  this  place.  Elisha  was  here  when  the  Shunamite’s 
son  died.  Looking  down  one  afternoon  from  his  command¬ 
ing  position,  he  saw  her  “  afar  off  ”  on  the  plain.  He 
sent  his  servant  to  meet  her ;  but  she  pressed  up  the  moun¬ 
tain  side  “  to  the  man  of  God.”  Dismounting  hastily,  she 
threw  herself  on  the  ground  before  him,  “  and  caught  him 
by  the  feet” — just  as  an  Arab  woman  would  still  do  under 
similar  circumstances.  Elisha,  on  hearing  her  tale  of  sor¬ 
row,  sent  away  Gehazi  with  his  staff  to  raise  the  dead 
child;  but  she,  with  all  a  mother’s  earnestness,  exclaimed, 
“As  the  Lord  liveth,  and  as  thy  soul  liveth,  I  will  not 
leave  thee.  And  he  rose  and  followed  her,”  (2  Kings  iv.) 

Carmel  was  the  favourite  retreat  of  both  Elijah  and  Eli¬ 
sha.  In  the  stirring  times  in  which  they  lived,  it  was  a 
fitting  place  for  the  prosecution  of  the  great  work  of  re¬ 
form  for  which  they  laboured  and  prayed.  It  was  central 
in  position,  and  easy  of  access  from  all  parts  of  Palestine. 


242 


GALILEE  AND  THE  SEA-COAST. 


It  afforded  in  its  deep  dells  and  dense  thickets  sufficient 
privacy  for  such  as  wished  to  pay  secret  visits  to  the  men 
of  God ;  and  it  offered  a  secure  asylum  to  all  compelled  to 
flee  from  the  persecutions  of  the  idolatrous  Ahab,  and  the 
cruelties  of  the  infamous  Jezebel.  The  situation  of  el-Muh- 
rakah  also  struck  me  as  peculiarly  suitable  for  the  head¬ 
quarters  of  the  prophets.  It  could  only  be  reached  by  a 
long  and  steep  ascent.  N o  man  could  approach  it  unseen ; 
and  any  hostile  party  would  be  visible  at  a  great  distance. 
Beside  it  is  a  well  with  an  unfailing  spring,  and  upon  it  are 
the  remains  of  a  massive  ancient  building. 

Sitting  on  that  commanding  height,  on  a  bright  spring 
evening,  I  felt  persuaded  I  was  upon  the  scene  of  Elijah’s 
great  sacrifice.  Beside  and  under  me  were  probably  the 
very  stones  of  which  God’s  altar  was  built,  and  over  which 
played  the  heavenly  flame.  A  few  paces  beneath  me  was 
the  well  from  which  the  water  was  drawn,  that  the  pro¬ 
phet’s  servants  poured  upon  the  altar.  Around  me  were 
the  thickets  from  which  the  wood  was  cut.  Away  at  the 
foot  of  the  mountain  flowed  the  Kishon  in  its  deep  bed, 
which  on  that  day  ran  red  with  the  blood  of  Jehovah’s 
enemies.  There,  stretching  out  before  me,  was  the  plain 
across  which  Ahab  dashed  in  his  chariot ;  and  yonder,  on 
its  eastern  border,  I  saw  the  little  villages  which  mark  the 
sites  and  still  bear  the  names  of  Jezreel  and  Shunem.  Is 
it  strange  that  when  one  thus  visits  the  “  holy  and  historic 
places  of  Palestine ,”  the  grand  events  of  Bible  history 
should  appear  to  be  enacted  over  again,  and  should  be¬ 
come  to  him  living  realities  ? 

0 

“  Land  of  fair  Palestine,  where  Jesus  trod, 

Thy  ruins  and  thy  relics  tell  of  God  : 

Thine  everlasting  hills  with  awe  proclaim 
The  holy  records  of  Jehovah’s  name : 

Thy  fallen  cities  crumbled  into  dust, 

Pronounce  the  judgment  of  Jeb  ”ah  jnst.** 


II. 


omt  Calror  mtir  %  Dalleg  of 

**  Surely  as  Tabor  is  among  the  mountains,  and  as  Carmel  by  the  sea,  so  shall  he  come.’* 

— Jer.  xlri.  18. 

ABOR  is  the  traditional  “  Mount  of  Transfisrura- 

O 

tion.”  Were  it  the  real  scene  of  that  wondrous 
event,  it  would  yield  in  interest  to  none  of  Pal¬ 
estine’s  “Holy  Places.”  But  the  tradition  is 
questionable,  and  sacred  topography  is  opposed  to  it.  Yet 
it  can  lay  claim  to  a  venerable  antiquity,  for  Jerome,  in  the 
fourth  century,  when  making  his  pilgrimage  with  the  saint¬ 
ly  Paula,  says,  “  She  ascended  Tabor,  on  which  the  Lord 
was  transfigured.”  Jerome’s  words  and  monkish  super¬ 
stition  have  canonized  the  mountain.  Churches  have  been 
built  upon  it,  pilgrimages  have  been  made  to  it,  and  for 
fifteen  centuries  it  has  been  honoured  as  one  of  the  shrines 
of  the  Holy  Land. 

But  independent  of  apocryphal  tradition  and  monkish 
superstition,  Tabor  holds  rank  among  Palestine’s  celebrat¬ 
ed  mountains.  Gilead  and  Pisgah,  Olivet  and'  Carmel, 
Tabor  and  Hermon,  are  all  honoured  names  in  sacred  story. 
In  olden  days  of  Canaanitish  Baal-worship  Tabor  was  a 
“  high  place and  the  northern  tribes  appear,  in  this  case 
as  in  many  others,  to  have  forgotten  the  divine  command, 
“Ye  shall  utterly  destroy  all  the  places  wherein  the  na¬ 
tions  which  ye  shall  possess  served  their  gods,  upon  the 
high  mountains ,  and  upon  the  hills  ”  (Deut.  xii.  2 ;  com¬ 
pare  2  Kings  xvii.  9-12).  They  appear  to  have  erected 


244 


GALILEE  AND  THE  SEA-COAST. 


altars  and  images  upon  Tabor;  and  hence  the  force  and 
pointedness  of  Hosea’s  accusation, — -“Hear  ye  this,  O 
priests;  and  hearken,  ye  house  of  Israel;  and  give  ye  ear, 
O  house  of  the  king ;  for  judgment  is  toward  you,  because 
ye  have  been  a  snare  on  Mizpeh,  and  a  net  spread  upon 
Tabor  ”  (v.  1).  The  people  were  there  deceived  and  en¬ 
snared  by  the  idolatrous  practices  of  their  leaders. 

And  Tabor  was  the  gathering-place  of  the  northern  tribes 
in  time  of  danger  or  war.  For  this,  as  I  shall  show,  both 
its  position  and  its  natural  features  admirably  fitted  it. 
Here  Deborah  ordered  Barak  to  concentrate  his  army  to 
oppose  Sisera :  “  Go  and  draw  toward  mount  Tabor,  and 
take  with  thee  ten  thousand  men  of  the  children  of  Kaph- 
tali  and  of  the  children  of  Zebulun”  (Judges  iv.  6). 
Here,  too,  some  of  Israel’s  warriors  had  been  attacked  and 
slain  by  the  host  of  Midian,  before  Gideon’s  victory.  Gid¬ 
eon  asked  Zebah  and  Zalmunna,  “What  manner  of  men 
were  they  whom  ye  slew  at  Tabor?  And  they  answered, 
As  thou  art,  so  were  they :  each  one  resembled  a  king  ” 
(Judges  viii.  18).  Even  before  the  conquest,  it  would  seem 
that  the  great  Lawgiver’s  prophetic  eye  had  been  fixed 
upon  Tabor,  when  he  said  of  Zebulun  and  Issachar,  “  They 
shall  call  the  people  unto  the  mountain ;  there  they  shall 
offer  sacrifices  of  righteousness”  (Deut.  xxxiii.  19). 

ASCENT  OE  TABOE. 

It  was  on  the  8th  of  May,  at  noon,  in  a  flood  of  glorious 
sunshine,  I  first  approached  the  northern  base  of  Tabor. 
At  intervals,  during  the  two  preceding  days,  I  had  seen  it 
from  the  heights  of  Naphtali  and  the  banks  of  the  upper 
Jordan.  Now  that  it  was  before  me,  I  was  disappointed. 
There  is  nothing  of  majesty  in  its  elevation,  nor  of  gran¬ 
deur  in  its  scenery,  that  would  at  all  make  it  rival  Hermon 
or  Lebanon.  Its  shape  and  partial  isolation  are  striking, 
but  nothing  more.  The  point  from  which  I  got  the  most 
pleasing  view  was  beside  the  ruins  of  Khan  et-Tujjar,  two 


SCENERY  OF  TABOR. 


245 


miles  to  the  north.  The  intervening  ground  was  table-land, 
with  a  gently  undulating  surface,  and  belts  of  plantation, 
and  clumps  of  trees,  and  vistas  of  green  turf  bordered  with 
shrubbery,  like  an  English  park.  Over  it,  to  the  height  of 
twelve  hundred  feet  or  more,  rose  Tabor;  in  shape  a  seg¬ 
ment  of  a  sphere;  its  sides  and  regularly  curved  top  all 
sprinkled  with  evergreen  oaks  and  terebinths.  It  is  un¬ 
doubtedly  the  most  conspicuous  hill  in  Central  Palestine — 
not  from  its  altitude,  for  there  are  others  much  higher,  but 
from  its  isolated  position,  unique  shape,  and  unfading  ver¬ 
dure.  When  first  seen  from  the  north,  as  I  saw  it,  its 
curved  outline  breaks  the  dull  monotony  of  the  hills  of 
Galilee.  When  first  seen  from  the  south,  it  is  still  more 
imposing.  Then  it  swells  up  like  a  vast  dome  from  the 
plain  of  Esdraelon;  and  in  the  richness  of  its  foliage,  and 
delicate  green  of  its  forest  glades,  it  presents  a  pleasing  con¬ 
trast  to  the  brown  rocky  summits  of  Ephraim,  and  the  bare 
white  crowns  of  Judah. 

My  path  led  through  a  widespread  camp  of  Nomads, 
“  children  of  the  east,”  who  had  come  here  in  early  spring, 
like  the  Midianites  of  old,  to  devour  the  luxuriant  pastures 
of  Palestine.  They  were  a  wild  and  a  lawless  race,  and  I 
felt  that  to  pass  them  in  safety  would  require  some  little 
tact.  I  rode  boldly  to  the  nearest  tent,  and  asked  for 
water.  A  large  bowl  of  milk  was  handed  to  me  by  an 
Arab  girl ;  bread,  too,  was  offered,  of  which  I  ate  a  small 
quantity.  I  was  now  their  guest,  under  their  protection, 
freed  from  all  danger  of  attack  on  person  or  property.  I 
demanded  a  guide  or  rather  an  escort,  for  the  way  was 
plain  enough,  to  the  foot  of  Tabor.  The  girl  conducted  me 
to  the  tent  of  the  sheikh,  which  was  pitched  under  the 
shade  of  a  noble  oak.  He  was  not  at  home ;  but  his  son,  a 
fine-looking  boy  of  fifteen,  leaped  on  the  back  of  a  beautiful 
mare  that  stood  ready  saddled,  and,  seizing  the  spear  which 
was  stuck  in  the  ground  at  the  tent  door,  told  me  to  follow 
him. 


246 


GALILEE  AND  THE  SEA-COAST. 


My  little  guide  led  me  to  the  western  base  of  Tabor, 
within  sight  of  the  village  of  Deburieh,  which  nestles  in  a 
quiet  nook  on  the  side  of  the  great  plain.  There  he  wheeled 
round,  waved  a  polite  adieu,  and  was  out  of  sight  in  a  mo¬ 
ment.  I  turned  my  horse’s  head  up  the  zig-zag  path  that 
leads  to  the  top  of  the  hill ;  but  soon,  wearying  of  the  wind¬ 
ings,  I  left  my  horse  in  charge  of  my  servant,  and  clambered 
up  straight  to  the  summit.  It  was  a  rash  act.  On  my  way 
I  saw  several  jackals,  and  heard  sundry  barks  and  growls 
in  the  jungles  as  they  scampered  off,  which  made  me  feel 
somewhat  uncomfortable.  The  summit  is  broad,  strewn 
with  ruins,  and  covered  with  thickets  of  dwarf  oak  and 
prickly  shrubs.  I  entered  a  narrow  opening,  and  was  pro¬ 
ceeding  along  a  beaten  track,  when  I  was  startled  by  a  loud 
snort ;  and  a  huge  boar,  with  head  down  and  mane  erect, 
brushed  past  me,  and  was  followed  by  a  sow  and  a  litter 
of  young.  I  scarce  knew  what  to  do.  The  place  was  quite 
different  from  what  I  had  expected.  As  yet  I  could  see 
nothing  but  thickets  of  ilex  and  heaps  of  ruins.  I  was 
thirsty,  and  thirst  compelled  me  to  run  the  risk  of  more 
encounters  with  the  denizens  of  the  jungle.  After  some 
time  and  trouble,  I  discovered  water  at  the  bottom  of  a 
large  dark  vault  or  cistern.  A  rude  staircase  once  led  down 
the  side,  but  it  was  now  in  a  great  measure  destroyed.  I 
was  resolved,  however,  to  reach  in  some  way  the  tempting - 
fluid.  Holding  by  an  overhanging  branch,  I  began  the 
descent,  when  suddenly  a  panther  bounded  out  from  an  ob¬ 
scure  corner,  and  turning  round,  growled  at  me  from  the 
opposite  side.  I  could  do  nothing  except  look  steadily  at 
the  beautiful  but  dangerous  creature.  Gradually  it  shrunk 
back,  and  at  length  disappeared  in  a  thicket.  I  was  a 
good  deal  relieved  when  I  heard  the  voice  of  my  servant, 
and  still  more  so  when  he  came  up  and  handed  me  my  gun. 

In  all  that  painful,  fearful  desolation  on  the  top  of  Tabor, 
the  finger  of  God  was  visible.  Prophecy  was  fulfilled  be¬ 
fore  my  eyes.  Every  object  I  saw  was  an  emblem  and  a 


RUINS  ON  TABOR. 


247 


result  of  the  curse — ruins,  thorns  and  thistles,  wild  beasts, 
a  deserted  stronghold.  What  a  commentary  upon  the 
words  of  the  ancient  prophets !  “  I  will  destroy  your  high 

places . I  will  make  your  cities  waste,  and  bring  your 

sanctuaries  into  desolation . Upon  the  land  of  my  peo¬ 

ple  shall  come  up  thorns  and  briars ,  yea ,  upon  all  the 
houses  of  joy  in  the  joyous  city  •  because  the  palaces  shall 
be  forsaken ;  the  multitude  of  the  city  shall  be  left ;  the 
forts  and  towers  shall  be  for  dens ”  (Lev.  xxvi.  30,  31 ;  Isa, 
xxxii.  13,  14). 

THE  RUINS. 

The  ruins  on  the  summit  of  Tabor  are  extensive.  The 
destroyer,  however,  has  dealt  so  heavily  with  them,  and 
they  are  so  overgrown  with  thorns,  and  briars,  and  thistles, 
that  any  minute  examination  by  a  passing  traveller  is  im¬ 
possible.  I  spent  the  whole  afternoon  exploring,  and  since 
that  time  I  spent  an  entire  day  among  them,  yet  I  was  not 
satisfied. 

The  top  of  the  mount  is  a  level,  oval-shaped  area,  about  a 
mile  in  circuit.  Round  it  are  the  remains  of  a  massive  wall, 
outside  which  is  a  moat  hewn  in  the  rock.  The  foundations 
of  the  wall  are  colossal,  and  of  the  earliest  type  of  Jewish 
masonry.  Some  of  the  towers  are  much  more  recent ;  and 
one  gateway,  still  standing,  has  a  pointed  Saracenic  arch, 
and  an  Arabic  inscription  stating  that  the  fortress  was 
built,  or  more  probably  rebuilt ,  by  Abubekr,  brother  of  the 
renowned  Saladin,  in  the  year  a.d.  1210.  Near  the  south¬ 
eastern  angle  I  saw  a  little  vault  in  which  the  Latin  monks 
from  Nazareth  celebrate  an  annual  mass,  in  honour  of  the 
Ti'ansfiguration.  On  the  opposite  side  the  Greeks  have 
their  altar  and  sanctuary,  and  are  in  the  habit,  I  was  in¬ 
formed,  of  making  a  yearly  pilgrimage  to  the  spot  and 
spending  a  day  on  the  summit.  But  during  my  visits  to 
Tabor,  the  mountain  was  deserted.  Not  a  human  being 
was  there ;  and  not  a  vestige  of  anything  like  a  permanent 


/ 


218 


GALILEE  AND  THE  SEA-COAST. 


abode  of  man.  I  saw  dead  ashes  and  charred  sticks,  left 
there  apparently  by  some  passing  traveller  like  myself.  I 
was  not  even  so  fortunate  as  to  meet  the  hermit  of  whom 
Dean  Stanley  tells  such  a  romantic  story ;  but  if  the  panther 
I  saw  was  that  which  is  said  to  have  been  the  constant 
companion  of  the  old  man,  I  fear  his  attempts  to  tame  it 
had  not  been  very  successful. 

The  top  of  Tabor  was  evidently  the  site  of  a  city  as  well 
as  of  a  sanctuary  from  a  very  early  period.  In  fact  its 
strong  and  commanding  position  could  not  fail  to  attract 
the  notice  of  the  warlike  Canaanites.  The  city  was  allot¬ 
ted  to  Issachar  (Josh.  xix.  22)  ;  and  it  continued  a  place  of 
note,  not  only  throughout  the  whole  period  of  Jewish  his¬ 
tory,  but  down  to  the  close  of  the  Crusades. 

The  view  from  Tabor  possesses  a  far  higher  interest  for 
the  Bible  student  and  the  Christian  pilgrim  than  its  hoary 
and  desolate  ruins.  It  is  one  of  those  wondrous  panoramas 
which  time  can  never  obliterate  from  the  memory;  and 
whose  striking  features  and  vivid  colouring,  change  can 
never  dim.  The  notes  I  wrote  on  the  mount  are  before  me, 
but  they  are  scarcely  needed.  I  see  the  landscape  now  as 
I  saw  it  then.  On  the  north,  Naphtali’s  brown  peaks 
running  in  a  serried  ridge  athwart  the  glowing  sky.  Fur¬ 
ther  to  the  right  a  little  corner  of  the  Sea  of  Galilee,  slum¬ 
bering  in  its  deep,  deep  bed,  and  the  glittering  top  of  Her- 
mon  towering  over  it  like  a  guardian  angel.  On  the  east 
the  long  purple  ridge  of  Gilead,  rising  like  a  colossal  wall 
from  the  Jordan  valley.  On  the  south  the  plain  of  Esdrae- 
lon,  Palestine’s  battle-field,  sweeping  round  the  base  of  the 
mount,  and  extending,  a  sea  of  verdure,  away  to  the  hills 
of  Samaria,  and  the  dark  ridge  of  Carmel.  In  the  distance, 
ranged  along  its  opposite  side,  I  saw  dimly  the  isolated 
tells  on  which  once  stood  the  cities  of  Taanach,  Megiddo, 
and  Jokneam  of  Carmel.  Directly  facing  me,  four  miles 
distant,  beyond  an  eastern  arm  of  the  plain,  rose  “  the  hill 
Moreh,”  a  grey,  treeless  ridge,  with  the  villages  of  Endor 


BARAK  AND  DEBORAH. 


249 


and  Nam  upon  its  side.  Over  its  left  shoulder  appeared 
the  bare  white  top  of  Gilboa.  Westward  my  eye  wandered 
along  the  wooded  heights  of  Galilee  to  the  Great  Sea,  a 
section  of  which  was  visible  beside  the  bold  promontory  of 
Carmel. 

Standing  on  this  spot  I  was  able  to  understand  why  Ta¬ 
bor  was  the  gathering-place  of  the  northern  tribes.  Con¬ 
nected  by  a  wooded  ridge  with  the  hills  of  Galilee  and 
mountains  of  Naphtali,  it  was  always  accessible  to  them; 
while  at  the  same  time  it  stood  out  commanding  the  plain 
of  Esdraelon.  Its  steep  sides  were  easily  defended,  and  its 
broad  top  gave  ample  space  for  the  organization  of  a  little 
army  of  mountaineers.  The  plain  below  it  was  the  centre 
of  attraction  for  all  invaders.  Its  pastures  tempted  the  no¬ 
mads  of  Arabia ;  its  firm  flat  surface  attracted  the  chariots 
and  horsemen  of  Philistia,  Canaan,  and  Syria.  From  the 
top  of  Tabor  the  light  infantry  of  Israel  could  watch  all 
their  movements,  and  take  advantage  of  any  fitting  oppor¬ 
tunity  for  attack.  The  graphic  story  of  Barak  and  Deborah 
was  here  brought  vividly  before  my  mind ; — Barak  eagerly 
watching  the  advance  of  Sisera  across  the  plain;  while 
Deborah,  with  the  enthusiasm  of  a  patriot,  and  the  inspi¬ 
ration  of  a  propheless,  looked  and  prayed  to  heaven  for 
the  signal  to  attack.  At  length  her  eye  saw  it,  and  she 
cried :  “  Up,  for  this  is  the  day  in  which  the  Lord  hath  de¬ 
livered  Sisera  into  thine  hand :  is  not  the  Lord  gone  out  be¬ 
fore  thee?”  (Judges  iv.  14). 

The  sun  went  down,  and  deep  purple  shadows  fell  upon 
plain  and  valley.  The  wild  plaintive  wail  of  jackals,  min¬ 
gled  with  the  sharper  howl  of  wolves,  warned  me  to  seek 
safer  quarters.  I  mounted  and  rode  slowly  down  to  De- 
burieh.  Here  stood  the  Canaanitish  Daborath ,  but  it  has 
long  since  disappeared,  and  the  only  remains  of  antiquity 
now  are  the  walls  of  a  mediaeval  church. 


250 


GALILEE  AND  THE  SEA-COAST. 


THE  VALLEY  OF  JEZKEEL. 

“  I  will  break  the  bow  of  Israel  in  the  valley  of  Jezreel” 
(Hos.  i.  5). — The  old  city  of  Jezreel  gave  its  name  to  one 
of  the  noblest  plains  of  Palestine,  and  that  name  was  after¬ 
wards  softened  by  the  Greeks  into  the  more  familiar  Es- 
draelon.  Its  position  affords  a  key  to  its  bloody  history. 
It‘  intersects  Central  Palestine,  extending  from  the  bay  of 
Acre  to  the  fords  of  the  Jordan.  It  was  thus  open  to  all 
invaders — to  the  Philistines  from  the  coast,  the  Israelites 
from  the  east,  and  the  Syrians  from  the  north ;  while  at  a 
later  period  it  was  the  highway  along  which  passed  and 
repassed  the  armies  of  Assyria  and  Egypt.  Its  wide-spread 
meadows  and  corn-fields,  its  luxuriant  pastures  and  abund¬ 
ant  waters  courted  rest,  and  gave  ample  space  for  military 
manoeuvres.  The  northern  tribes  watched  the  invaders 
from  the  top  of  Tabor,  and  the  southern  tribes  had  their 
gathering-place  on  the  heights  of  Gilboa,  or  at  the  passes 
of  Megiddo,  according  as  the  enemy  came  from  the  east  or 
west. 

Issachar,  to  whom  this  plain  was  allotted,  suffered  more 
than  all  the  other  tribes.  His  was  a  hard  lot.  In  the  con¬ 
dition  and  history  of  the  plain — open  to  every  incursion,  ex¬ 
posed  to  every  shock  of  war — we  see  the  fortunes  of  the 
tribe,  and  we  have  a  melancholy  commentary  on  the  bless¬ 
ing  of  Jacob:  “Issachar  is  a  strong  ass,  couching  down  be¬ 
tween  two  burdens ;  and  he  saw  that  rest  was  good,  and 
the  land  that  it  was  pleasant ;  and  bowed  his  shoulder  to 
bear,  and  became  a  servant  unto  tribute”  (Gen.  xlix.  14, 
15).  As  the  peasants  do  still  who  cultivate  patches  of  Es- 
draelon,  Issachar  paid  black-mail  to  the  “children  of  the 
East.”  When  the  tribe  saw  the  prowess  of  David,  and  his 
ability  to  protect  Israel,  their  valuable  possessions  and  ex¬ 
posed  position  made  them  anxious  for  his  succession  to  the 
throne.  And  this  explains  the  words  of  the  sacred  writer, — 
“Of  the  children  of  Issachar,  which  were  men  that  had 


ENDOR  AND  NAIN. 


251 


understanding  of  the  times ,  to  Icnow  what  Israel  ought  to 
do  ”  (1  Chron.  xii.  32). 

The  main  part  of  Esdraelon  is  triangular  in  form.  Its 
base  on  the  east  reaches  from  Engannim  to  Tabor,  fifteen 
miles ;  and  its  apex  is  at  the  foot  of  Carmel,  where  the  Ki- 
shon  flows  into  the  plain  of  Acre.  From  the  base,  however, 
three  arms  stretch  out  eastward,  divided  by  two  short  par¬ 
allel  ridges.  The  northern  arm  lies  between  Tabor  and  the 
ridge  of  Moreh,  and  the  central  between  the  latter  and 
Gilboa.  These  two  extend  down  to  the  Jordan.  The  third 
arm  is  on  the  south  side  of  Gilboa,  and  is  shut  in  on  the 
east  by  the  mountains  of  Ephraim. 

ENDOR. 

In  the  ruddy  morning  twilight  I  rode  across  the  beauti¬ 
ful  plain  to  Endor.  It  is  a  poor  village  of  some  twenty 
houses,  perched  on  the  bleak  side  of  Moreh,  about  two  hun¬ 
dred  yards  above  the  plain.  The  rocks  round  it  are  pierced 
with  caves — some  natural,  some  artificial,  as  if  the  old  in¬ 
habitants  had  been  troglodytes.  Above  the  village  is  one 
larger  than  the  rest,  the  entrance  to  which  is  between  high 
rocks,  and  is  partly  covered  by  the  branches  of  a  fig-tree. 
Within  it  is  a  fountain  called  ’ Ain  Dor ,  “  the  fountain  of 
Dor,”  which  doubtless  gave  its  name  to  the  ancient  as  well 
as  the  modern  village.  Entering  this  gloomy  grotto,  and 
looking  round  on  its  dark  riven  sides,  I  felt  how  suitable 
such  a  spot  would  be  for  the  interview  between  Saul  and 
the  witch. 

NAIN. 

A  pleasant  ride  of  forty  minutes  along  the  hill-side 
brought  me  to  Nain.  It  was  by  the  very  same  path  our 
Lord  approached  it,  for  he  was  on  his  way  from  Capernaum. 
It  was  with  no  little  interest,  therefore,  I  observed  on  my 
left,  three  or  four  hundred  yards  from  the  village,  a  group 
of  rock  tombs.  Towards  one  of  these  probably  the  funeral 


252 


GALILEE  AND  i'HE  SEA-COAST. 


procession  was  moving  when  He  met  and  stopped  it.  How 
vividly  did  the  whole  scene  appear  to  me  now  as  I  stood 
on  the  spot !  The  procession  issuing  from  the  gate ;  the 
men  carrying  the  open  bier;  the  women  behind  grouped 
round  the  poor  widow,  and  rending  the  air  with  their  cries, 
as  they  do  still.  Another  procession  meets  them.  He  who 
heads  it  looks  with  melting  tenderness  on  the  widow,  and 
says,  in  accents  that  thrill  her  soul,  “Weep  not.”  He 
touches  the  bier.  In  mingled  awe  and  astonishment  the 
bearers  stop.  “  Young  man ,  I  say  unto  thee ,  Arise!” 
As  the  words  are  uttered  the  dead  rises  to  life ;  and  in  a 
moment  he  is  in  the  arms  of  his  mother. 

ISTain  is  a  small  village;  but  the  ruins  round  it  show  that 
it  was  much  larger  in  olden  times ;  and  it  commands  one  of 
the  finest  views  in  Central  Palestine.  Beneath  it  the  plain, 
beyond  which  rise  the  wooded  hills  of  Galilee ;  and  on  the 
north  the  great  flat  dome  of  Tabor,  with  Hermon  shooting 
up  behind  it  on  the  distant  horizon.  From  this  place  I 
first  saw  these  two  mountains  in  close  perspective  proximi¬ 
ty,  and  I  thought  that  perhaps  it  might  have  been  some 

> 

such  view  which  suggested  the  Psalmist’s  words :  “  The 
north  and  the  south  thou  hast  created  them  •  Tabor  and 
Hermon  shall  rejoice  in  thy  name  ”  (lxxxix.  12). 

SHUNEM. 

The  path  from  Hain  to  Shunem  passes  round  the  western 
slopes  of  Moreh.  As  I  turned  my  back  on  Tabor  the 
brown  hills  of  Samaria  came  in  sight,  looking  like  a  lower 
continuation  of  Carmel ;  then  Gilboa  came  into  view,  rising 
up  white  and  bare  from  the  centre  of  the  beautiful  green 
plain,  and  having  the  grey  ruins  of  Jezreel  at  its  western 
base.  Sweeping  round  still  to  the  left,  I  looked  away  down 
the  middle  arm  of  Esdraelon  to  the  lofty  tell  on  which 
the  old  city  of  Beth-shan  stood,  and  beyond  it  to  the  pic¬ 
turesque  range  of  Gilead.  This  is  “the  valley  of  Jezreel” 


253 


Gideon’s  victory. 

properly  so  called,  and  the  scene  of  some  of  the  most  mo 
mentous  events  in  Jewish  history. 

Shunem  was  now  below  me,  situated  in  a  little  nook  at 
the  foot  of  the  ridge,  encircled  by  enclosed  gardens  and 
luxuriant  fields  of  corn.  I  rode  into  it  and  dismounted  at 
the  fountain.  The  people  were  rude  and  almost  hostile; 
but  there  was  an  air  of  sturdy  independence  about  them, 
and  of  thrift  and  success  about  their  houses  and  fields,  that 
pleased  me.  A  party  of  men  and  women  were  busy  reap¬ 
ing  in  an  adjoining  barley  field ;  and  a  number  of  little 
children  were  basking  in  the  bright  sunshine  among  the 
sheaves  and  stubble,  all  with  bare  heads,  and  a  few  of  them 
stark  naked.  I  sat  down  and  read  the  story  of  the  Shu- 
nemite,  every  detail  of  which  assumed  a  life-like  vividness. 
In  the  house  of  a  great  man — probably  the  sheikh — of  that 
village  Elisha  was  wont  to  lodge.  One  day  his  son — the 
child  of  promise — “  went  out  to  his  father  to  the  reapers,” 
just  as  the  children  I  saw  now  had  gone  out.  But  the 
heat  was  too  much  for  him.  The  fatal  sun  stroke  prostrated 
him.  “  My  head,  my  head,”  he  cried ;  and  when  carried 
home  to  his  mother,  “he  sat  on  her  knees  till  noon,  and 
died”  (2  Kings  iv.  8-20).  The  mother’s  journey  across 
that  plain  to  Carmel,  and  Elisha’s  miracle,  are  well  known. 

Gideon’s  victory. 

The  scene  of  one  of  the  most  glorious  victories,  and  of 
one  of  the  most  disastrous  defeats  in  the  annals  of  Israel, 
was  before  me  at  Shunem.  It  was  with  no  ordinary  inter¬ 
est  I  proceeded  to  survey  the  battle-field,  so  as  fully  to 
understand  the  sacred  narrative.  When  the  “Midianites, 
and  the  children  of  the  east,”  with  their  herds,  numerous 
and  destructive  as  locusts,  invaded  the  land  three  thousand 
years  ago,  they  pitched  their  tents  on  the  north  side  of  the 
valley  of  Jezreel,  “by  the  hill  of  Moreh;”  while  Gideon  and 
his  little  band  of  warriors  “  pitched  beside  the  well  of  Ha- 
rod,”  on  the  south  side,  at  the  foot  of  Gilboa  (Judges  vi. 


254 


GALILEE  AND  THE  SEA-COAST. 


3,  30 ;  vii.  l).  The  hill  Moreh  was  there,  rising  up  close 
behind  Shunem.  The  camp  of  the  Midianites  lay  along  its 
base,  probably  extending  from  the  fountain  of  Shunem  down 
to  Beth-shan.  Mounting  my  horse  I  rode  across  the  rich 
valley  to  Gideon’s  camp  at  the  well  of  Harod.  The  dis¬ 
tance  is  a  little  over  three  miles,  and  there  is  a  slight  de¬ 
scent  the  whole  way.  The  well,  or  rather  “  fountain,”  for 
the  Hebrew  word  is  Ain ,  springs  from  a  wide  excavation 
in  the  rocky  root  of  Gilboa,  and  sends  out  a  copious  stream 
which  forms  a  miniature  lake,  and  then  murmurs  away 
down  the  vale.  Gilboa  rises  over  it  in  broken  cliffs.  Gid¬ 
eon’s  active  followers  had  assembled  upon  the  mountain; 
and  he,  at  God’s  command,  “brought  them  down  to  the 
water  ”  to  test  them  (vii.  4) ;  this  done  they  again  ascended 
(ver.  8).  During  the  night  Gideon  “went  down”  with 
his  servant  to  spy  out  the  camp  of  the  enemy  (verses  9, 
10).  He  heard  the  Midianite  tell  his  dream;  he  knew  thus 
that  the  Lord’s  time  of  deliverance  was  come ;  and  by  his 
singular  but  effective  stratagem,  and  unexpected  assault,  he 
struck  terror  into  the  host  of  the  enemy,  and  they  fled  in 
wild  disorder  down  the  valley  to  the  fords  of  the  Jordan. 
For  the  first  time  I  there  saw  how  not  only  every  detail  of 
the  battle  was  accurate,  but  how  every  incidental  expres¬ 
sion  of  the  sacred  historian  was  illustrated  by  the  topogra¬ 
phy  of  the  battle-field. 

THE  DEATH  OF  SAUL  AND  JONATHAN. 

Two  centuries  later  the  Philistines  marched  into  the  cen¬ 
tre  of  Israel,  and  took  up  their  position  at  Shunem,  on  the 
spot  where  the  Midianites  had  encamped.  Saul  then  gath¬ 
ered  the  tribes  on  the  heights  of  Gilboa  (1  Sam.  xxviii.  4). 
Looking  down  from  his  commanding  position  on  the  war¬ 
like  array,  and  the  formidable  war-chariots  of  the  enemy, 
drawn  up  in  the  valley,  Saul  “  was  afraid,  and  his  heart 
greatly  trembled.”  Conscience  made  a  coward  of  him,  for 
he  felt  that  he  had  forgotten  God,  and  that  God  had  there- 


BATTLE  OF  GILBOA. 


255 


fore  forsaken  him.  The  closing  scene  of  Saul’s  life  is  sad 
and  solemn.  One’s  heart  bleeds  for  the  great  man;  and 
looking  at  him  morally  as  well  as  physically,  one  is  con¬ 
strained  to  exclaim,  “  How  are  the  mighty  fallen  !  ” 

Forsaken  by  Heaven,  he  so  far  forgot  himself  as  to  seek 
counsel  from  the  spirits  of  darkness.  During  the  night  he 
crossed  the  valley,  passing  along  the  east  side  of  the  Phil¬ 
istine  army,  and  went  over  the  shoulder  of  Moreh  to  Endor, 
where  he  visited  the  witch.  The  distance  is  about  seven 
miles,  so  that  he  must  have  travelled  at  least  fourteen  that 
night.  Though  wearied  with  the  journey,  and  broken  in 
spirit,  he  drew  up  his  troops  in  the  morning  at  the  fountain 
of  Harod.  The  position  was  badly  chosen.  The  ground 
slopes  down  from  Shunem,  and  the  Philistines  had  thus  all 
the  advantage  for  attack ;  while  both  front  and  flanks  of  the 
Israelites  were  exposed,  and  flight  all  but  impossible,  owing 
to  the  steepness  of  the  mountain  behind.  The  Israelites 
were  broken  by  the  •  first  impetuous  charge  of  the  enemy, 
and  the  slaughter  was  dreadful  as  they  attempted  to  flee 
up  Gilboa :  “  They  fell  down  slain  in  Mount  Gilboa.  And 
the  Philistines  followed  hard  upon  Saul  and  upon  his 

sons . And  the  battle  went  sore  against  Saul,  and  the 

archers  hit  him ;  and  he  was  sore  wounded  of  the  archers  ” 
(1  Sam.  xxxi.  1-3).  David  in  his  beautiful  ode  has  brought 
out  the  peculiarity  of  the  position :  “  The  beauty  of  Israel 

is  slain  upon  the  high  places . How  are  the  mighty 

fallen  in  the  midst  of  the  battle !  O  Jonathan,  thou  wast 
slain  in  thine  high  places  !  ”  (2  Sam.  i.  19,  25.) 

The  stripping  and  mutilating  of  the  slain,  mentioned  in 
the  narrative,  may  seem  to  some  inhuman,  and  almost  in¬ 
credible.  Strange  to  say,  it  is  characteristic  of  Arab  war¬ 
fare  to  this  day.  I  myself  saw  a  fearful  example  of  it  a 
few  years  ago,  not  many  miles  from  this  spot.  During  a 
journey  through  Palestine  I  witnessed  a  battle,  or  rather 
massacre  of  Kurds  by  Hawara  Arabs.  I  visited  the  battle¬ 
field  the  day  after;  and  there  I  found  the  ground  strewn 


256 


GALILEE  AND  THE  SEA-COAST. 


with  corpses,  all  stripped ,  and  some  frightfully  mutilated. 
Akeil  Aga,  and  the  ruffian  horde  that  now  follow  him,  are 
worthy  representatives  of  the  old  Philistines.  After  that 
spectacle  of  human  barbarity  I  read  with  more  intense 
feelings  of  horror  the  closing  scene  of  the  battle  of  Gilboa : 
“  And  it  came  to  pass  on  the  morrow,  when  the  Philistines 
came  to  strip  the  slain ,  that  they  found  Saul  and  his  three 
sons  fallen  in  Mount  Gilboa.  And  they  cut  off  his  head , 

and  stripped  off  his  armour . And  they  put  his  armour 

in  the  house  of  Ashtaroth ;  and  they  fastened  his  body  to 
the  wall  of  Peth-shan^  (1  Sam.  xxxi.  8-10). 

From  the  fountain  of  Harod  I  rode  up  an  old  path,  hewn 
deeply  in  the  rocky  side  of  Gilboa.  Looking  upon  that 
mountain — bleak,  and  white,  and  barren,  without  tree,  or 
shrub,  or  blade  of  grass — I  could  scarcely  help  thinking 
that  the  wildly  plaintive  words  of  David’s  lamentation  were 
prophetic :  “  Ye  mountains  of  Gilboa,  let  there  be  no  dew , 
neither  let  there  be  rain  upon  you ,  nor  fields  of  offerings  • 
for  there  the  shield  of  the  mighty  is  vilely  cast  away,  the 
shield  of  Saul,  as  though  he  had  not  been  anointed  with 
oil”  (2  Sam.  i.  21). 


JEZKEKL* 

« 

On  approaching  the  little  village  which  occupies  the  site 
of  the  ancient  city  of  Jezreel,  I  rode  through  a  modern 
cemetery,  which  lies  open  and  neglected  on  the  hill-side. 
There  I  saw  a  troop  of  dogs  burrowing  into  a  new-made 
grave,  while  two  huge  vultures  were  perched  on  a  cliff  not 
a  hundred  yards  distant.  The  place  seemed  deserted ; 
'  there  was  none  “  to  fray  them  away.”  Did  it  not  look  like 
an  illustration  of  the  prophetic  curse  and  the  historic  nar¬ 
rative  given  in  the  Bible  ? — “  In  the  portion  of  Jezreel  shall 
dogs  eat  the  flesh  of  Jezebel”  (2  Kings  ix.  36 ;  compare  1 
Kings  xxi.  23).  That  was  not  the  only  place  in  Palestine 
where  I  saw  dogs  and  vultures  holding  a  horrid  carnival 
among  the  tombs. 


JEHU’S  REVENGE. 


257 


There  is  not  a  vestige  of  royalty  in  Jezreel  now.  A 
dozen  miserable  houses  clustered  round  a  shattered  tower 
are  all  that  mark  the  site  and  bear  the  name  of  the  capital 
of  Ahab.  With  the  exception  of  a  large  sarcophagus  and 
some  caves  hewn  in  the  soft  limestone  of  the  hill,  there  are 
no  traces  of  antiquity.  The  city  is  utterly  ruined.  Its  very 
ruins  have  disappeared.  Its  vineyards,  too,  are  all  gone, 
and  the  slopes  immediately  round  the  village  are  bare  and 
barren  as  a  desert.  The  blood  shed,  and  the  crimes  com¬ 
mitted  there,  would  seem  to  have  brought  a  double  curse 
upon  Jezreel.  Looking  on  that  scene  of  desolation,  in  the 
centre  of  one  of  the  finest  plains  in  the  world,  I  thought  of 
the  murder  of  poor  Naboth,  and  of  Joram,  and  of  the  in¬ 
famous  Jezebel,  and  of  the  whole  royal  family,  (1  Kings 
xxi. ;  2  Kings  ix.,  x.) 

But  the  site  is  a  noble  one,  worthy  of  a  royal  city.  It  is 
a  little  knoll  at  the  western  extremity  of  the  Gilboa  range. 
The  green  plain  to  which  it  gave  a  name  sweeps  nearly  all 
round  its  base.  Standing  on  the  top  of  the  knoll,  I  saw  the 
whole  panorama  of  Esdraelon,  from  the  Jordan  valley  be¬ 
low  Beth-shan  away  to  the  dark  ridge  of  Carmel,  and  from 
the  mountains  of  Samaria  on  the  south  to  the  wooded 
heights  of  Galilee  on  the  north.  I  there  read  with  new  in¬ 
terest  the  graphic  narrative  of  the  ninth  chapter  of  2  Kings. 
It  was  from  those  eastern  mountains,  from  Ramoth  of 
Gilead,  Jehu  came.  Up  that  vale  the  watchman  on  Jez- 
reel’s  tower  saw  the  horsemen  and  chariots  dashing,  and  he 
called  out,  “  The  driving  is  like  the  driving  of  J ehu  the  son 
of  Nimshi;  for  he  driveth  furiously.”  Joram  went  out  to 
meet  him  in  his  chariot,  and  Ahaziah  accompanied  him  in 
his  chariot.  They  drove  down  the  steep  descent  to  the 
valley.  There  they  met  Jehu,  and  there  Joram  was  slain, 
and  his  body  thrown  into  the  vineyard  of  Naboth.  Aha¬ 
ziah  turned  and  fled  southward  along  “  the  road  to  JEn - 
gannim ”  (incorrectly  translated  in  our  version  “by  the 
way  of  the  garden  house,”  ver.  27).  But  he  too  was  fatally 


258 


GALILEE  AND  THE  SEA-COAST. 


wounded,  and  they  took  him  across  the  plain  to  Megiddo, 
and  there  he  died. 

BATTLE-FIELD  OF  MEGIDDO. 

It  was  noon  when  I  left  J ezreel.  The  sun  was  blazing 
in  the  centre  of  a  cloudless  sky.  The  plain,  usually  so  si¬ 
lent  and  desolate,  was  all  astir  with  the  flocks  and  herds  of 
Bedawin,  who  had  crossed  the  Jordan  two  days  previously, 
like  locusts  for  multitude,  and  like  locusts  for  destruction. 
I  found  one  of  the  petty  sheikhs  at  Jezreel,  and  engaged 
him  to  ride  with  me  to  Carmel,  to  prevent  annoyance  and 
perhaps  danger ;  for  his  tribe  were  not  of  good  repute.  He 
was  a  fine  specimen  of  the  Ishmaelite, — wild,  free,  and  gen¬ 
erous.  He  was  finely  mounted  too,  and  quite  willing  to 
show  off  by  word  and  act  the  matchless  perfections  of  his 
mare.  He  asked  me  of  my  country,  especially  of  what  he 
called  the  “fire-ships”  and  “fire-horses,”  of  which  some¬ 
body  had  given  him  an  account,  though  he  had  evidently 
not  believed  a  single  word  of  it.  After  I  had  described  as 
well  as  I  could  the  construction,  and  power,  and  speed  of 
steam-boat  and  locomotive,  he  came  close  up,  and  laying 
his  hand  on  my  arm,  and  looking  with  eagle  glance  straight 
into  my  face,  he  said,  in  a  deep  impetuous  voice,  “  Ya  Beg  ! 
by  the  life  of  the  prophet ,  are  you  laughing  at  my  beard , 
or  is  it  truth  you  tell  ?  ”  Of  course  I  assured  him  I  was 
stating  simple  facts.  He  shook  his  head  and  turned  away, 
half  perplexed,  half  disappointed.  He  rode  on  in  advance 
for  nearly  ten  minutes  without  saying  a  word ;  then  turning 
he  related  with  perfect  gravity  a  story  of  his  uncle,  who 
had  ridden  on  the  back  of  a  Jann  from  Bagdad  to  India 
and  back  again  in  a  single  night.  There  was  a  great  deal 
of  quiet  irony  in  this.  I  didn’t  believe  a  word  of  his  story, 
and  he  didn’t  believe  a  word  of  mine. 

A  sharp  ride  of  an  hour  and  quarter  brought  us  to  the 
village  of  Taannuk ,  the  representative  of  the  old  city  of 
Taanach .  It  stands  near  the  northern  base  of  the  moun- 


BATTLE  OF  MEGIDDO, 


259 


tains  of  Samaria.  Beside  it  is  an  isolated  tell  covered  with 
ruins. 

We  were  now  approaching  the  field  on  which  Barak 
gained  his  famous  victory, — “  The  kings  came  and  fought ; 
then  fought  the  kings  of  Canaan  in  Taanach  by  the  waters 
of  Megiddo  ”  (Judges  v.  19).  We  rode  on  across  the 
plain,  through  luxuriant  corn-fields  and  verdant  meadows, 
and  in  less  than  an  hour  were  on  the  site  of  Megiddo.  The 
old  city  has  almost  disappeared,  and  its  name  has  long 
since  been  forgotten.  It  is  now  called  Lejjun,  a  corruption 
of  the  Roman  Legio ,  which  took  the  place  of  the  Jewish 
Megiddo.  The  ruins  of  a  large  mediaeval  caravansery,  two 
or  three  mills  in  a  wady  near  it,  some  columns,  and  rub¬ 
bish  heaps,  and  building  stones  along  the  banks  of  a  little 
Stream, — such  are  the  only  vestiges  of  the  royal  city  of 
the  Canaanites.  They  lie  in  a  quiet  nook  at  the  foot  of 
the  hills,  on  the  border  of  Esdraelon.  A  short  distance 
north  is  a  large  tell  or  hill,  isolated ;  it  was  probably  the 
site  of  a  fortress  or  citadel.  The  .stream  flows  past  it,  and 
falls  into  the  Kishon  two  miles  northward.  Here  are  un¬ 
questionably  “the  waters  of  Megiddo,”  beside  which  the 
battle  was  fought. 

Riding  to  the  summit  of  the  tell,  the  battle-field  was  be¬ 
fore  me.  Taanach  was  visible,  and  the  intervening  plain 
was  spread  out  like  a  map.  The  details  of  the  battle  were 
now  intelligible.  It  would  seem  that  Sisera  had  marshalled 
his  army,  with  his  “  nine  hundred  chariots  of  iron,”  on  the 
south  bank  of  the  Kishon,  between  Taanach  and  Megiddo, 
with  the  purpose  probably  of  invading  the  territory  of 
the  southern  tribes  (Judges  iv.  13).  But  news  arrived 
that  the  northern  tribes  had  assembled  on  Tabor.  Sisera 
turned  to  meet  them — he  was  drawn  unto  Barak  as  Debo¬ 
rah  had  predicted  (ver.  7).  Deborah  gave  the  signal; 
Barak  charged  down  the  mountain  side.  Probably  the 
repulse  of  the  van  took  place  between  Tabor  and  Endor 
(Ps.  lxxxiii.  10).  At  that  critical  moment,  as  Josephus 


260 


GALILEE  AND  THE  SEA-COAST. 


tells  us,  before  the  Canaanites  had  time  to  rally,  a  tremen¬ 
dous  storm  of  rain,  hail,  and  thunder  from  the  east  burst 
upon  the  battle-field,  and  full  in  the  face  of  the  foe.  Horses, 
men,  chariots,  were  driven  back  in  fell  confusion, — “  They 
fought  from  heaven ,  the  stars  in  their  courses  fought 
against  Sisera ”  (Judges  v.  20).  The  plain  became  a 
marsh;  the  Kishon  rose  rapidly;  its  alluvial  banks  were 
converted  into  a  quagmire :  “  The  river  Kishon  swept  them 
away,  that  ancient  river,  the  river  Kishon”  (ver.  21). 

In  the  spring  of  1858  I  saw  the  low  parts  of  Esdraelon, 
previously  hard  and  dry,  turned  into  a  dangerous  morass 
by  a  few  hours’  heavy  rain ;  and  the  Kishon  was  swollen 
to  such  an  extent  as  to  render  it  altogether  impassable  at 
the  ordinary  fords. 

Six  centuries  later  another  battle  was  fought  on  the 
plain  of  Megiddo.  And  then,  instead  of  a  song  of  triumph, 
a  death-wail  re-echoed  through  the  mountains  of  Israel. 

Pharaoh-necho,  marching  against  Assyria,  passed  along 
the  plains  of  Palestine.  King  Josiah  rashly  attempted  to 
oppose  his  progress.  The  Egyptian  monarch  gave  him  a 
friendly  warning:  “What  have  I  to  do  with  thee,  thou 
king  of  Judah?  I  come  not  against  thee  this  day,  but 
against  the  house  wherewith  I  have  war;  for  God  com¬ 
manded  me  to  make  haste :  forbear  thee  from  meddling 
with  God,  who  is  with  me,  that  he  destroy  thee  not”  (2 
Chron.  xxxv.  21).  The  warning  was  neglected.  Josiah 
posted  his  troops  at  Megiddo,  so  as  to  attack  the  Egyptians 
when  defiling  through  the  pass  from  Sharon.  But  the  ar¬ 
chers  of  the  enemy,  perhaps  from  some  hill-side  or  rock, 
gave  Josiah  a  fatal  wound,  and  that  decided  the  battle. 
The  king  was  carried  away  to  Jerusalem  to  die;  and  the 
whole  land  mourned  so  bitterly  for  the  good  king  that  the 
mourning  became  a  proverb,  to  which  Zechariah  thus  al¬ 
ludes, — “  In  that  day  there  shall  be  a  great  mourning ,  as 
the  mourning  of  Hadad-rimmon ,  in  the  valley  of  Megidr 
don  ”  (xii.  11). 


BATTLE  OF  MEQIDDO. 


261 


It  may  be  that  this  plain  of  Megiddo,  this  great  battle¬ 
field  of  Israel  and  of  Palestine,  was  before  the  mind  of  the 
apostle  John  in  Patmos  when  he  figuratively  described  the 
conflict  between  the  powers  of  good  and  evil,  who  were 
gathered  to  a  place  “called  in  the  Hebrew  tongue  Ar- 
Mageddon ,” — that  is,  “the  city  of  Megiddo”  (Rev.  xvi. 
16). 

From  Megiddo  I  rode  westward  along  the  south  bank  of 
the  Kishon,  passing  the  desolate  site  of  Jokneam,  then 
along  the  base  of  Carmel  to  Haifa,  then  up  the  steep  path 
to  the  convent,  which  I  reached  at  length,  weary  and  way¬ 
worn,  after  one  of  the  longest  and  hardest  rides  I  ever  had 
in  Syria. 


m. 

Cjjt  Scrims  flf  ffapfrfali  ;mtr  Cities  jof  ^fmnraa. 

44  Where  is  thy  favoured  haunt,  eternal  voice, 

The  region  of  thy  choice, 

Where,  undisturbed  by  sin  and  earth,  the  soul 
Owns  thy  entire  control  ? 

’Tis  on  the  mountain’s  summit  dark  and  high, 

When  storms  are  hurrying  by  ; 

’Tis  mid  the  strong  foundations  of  the  earth, 

Where  torrents  have  their  birth.” 


HE  Naphtalites  were  the  highlanders  of  Palestine. 
Their  territory  was  a  prolongation  of  “  that 
goodly  mountain,  Lebanon,”  separated  from  the 
main  chain  by  the  narrow  ravine  of  the  Leontes. 
Their  shrines  and  strongholds  were  high  up  amid  mountain 
fastnesses  ;  but  their  pastures  stretched  down  to  the  banks 
of  the  Jordan,  and  their  corn-fields  lay  along  the  sunny 
shores  of  the  Sea  of  Galilee.  Within  their  borders  there 
was  more  variety  of  scenery  and  climate  than  in  any  of  the 
other  tribes.  The  plain  of  Gennesaret  by  the  lake  is  seven 
hundred  feet  below  the  level  of  the  ocean.  Tropical  heat 
and  eternal  summer  reign  there.  The  soil  is  of  surpassing 
fertility,  yielding  the  choicest  fruits,  and  producing  the 
rarest  flowers.  Even  old  Josephus,  usually  so  dull  and 
■prosy,  waxes  eloquent  under  the  inspiration  of  the  richness 
and  beauty  of  this  noble  plain.  Then  the  green  meadows 
along  the  sacred  river,  and  the  verdant  slopes  and  downs 
above,  rival  in  luxuriance  the  pastures  of  Bash  an  on  the 
opposite  bank. 


NAPHTALI. 


263 


And  when  we  climb  the  wooded  mountain  sides  that  shut 
in  the  Jordan  valley,  we  find  ourselves  on  a  wide  expanse 
of  table  land,  two  thousand  feet  and  more  above  the  sea. 
The  scenery  is  here  charming — altogether  different  from  the 
bleak  hills  and  rugged  glens  of  the  south,  where  the  vine 
and  the  olive  are  at  home  upon  rocky  terraces.  Here  are 
alluvial  plains  covered  with  waving  corn  ;  long  undulat¬ 
ing  ridges,  and  graceful  rounded  hill-tops,  clothed  with  the  * 
evergreen  foliage  of  the  oak  and  terebinth  ;  while  thick¬ 
ets  of  aromatic  shrubs,  and  velvety  lawns  of  verdant  turf 
spangled  with  flowers,  fill  up  the  forest  -glades.  Then 
there  are  glens — long,  winding,  densely  wooded  glens — 
with  tiny  streams  murmuring  among  rocks,  and  playing 
with  oleander  flowers,  away  down  in  deep  shady  beds. 
The  mountain-sides  are  all  furrowed  with  these  glens, — so 
retired,  so  musical,  so  fragrant,  so  wildly  picturesque,  that 
one  is  never  weary  wandering  through  them,  or  reclining 
in  their  sequestered  dells.  If  nature  could  influence  mind, 
if  it  could  create  genius,  Naphtali  would  be  a  land  of  poets. 
There  the  mind  receives  by  every  avenue  all  that  tends  to 
delight,  to  ennoble,  to  inspire.  The  fresh  mountain  breezes 
are  laden  with  perfumes — <c  the  smell  of  Lebanon.”  The 
ear  is  filled  with  melody — the  song  of  birds ;  the  murmur 
of  waters ;  the  music  of  the  forest  as  the  tempest  sweeps 
its  wild  chords,  or  the  zephyr  touches,  as  with  seraph’s 
finger,  its  softest  notes.  And  the  eye  revels  amid  nature’s 
choicest  scenes, — the  soft,  park-like  beauty  of  upland  plain, 
the  picturesque  loveliness  of  winding  vale  and  glen,  and 
the  grandeur  of  Herraon  and  Lebanon,  whose  snow-crowned 
peaks  rise  far  overhead,  now  cradling  the  storm-clouds  of 
winter,  now  distilling  the  dews  of  summer.  Can  it  be  that 
the  heaven-inspired  Jacob,  looking  into  the  distant  future, 
saw  Naphtali  placed  amid  these  ennobling  landscapes,  and 
indicated  its  effects  in  the  prophetic  blessing,  “  He  uttereth 
words  of  beauty?”  (Gen.  xlix.  21.)  And  is  it  so  that  the 
war-song  of  Barak — one  of  the  finest  odes  in  the  Bible — is 
12 


264 


GALILEE  AND  THE  SEA-COAST. 


an  example  of  these  “  words  of  beauty,”  and  has  been 
handed  down  to  us  as  a  specimen  and  proof  of  ISTaphtali’s 
poetic  genius  ? 

Uaphtali  also  teems  with  animal  life.  I  was  always 
deeply  impressed  with  the  solitude  of  southern  Palestine. 
The  words  of  Jeremiah  constantly  recurred  to  my  mind  as 
I  rode  across  desolate  plains  and  among  desolate  hills,  “  It 
is  desolate,  without  man  and  without  beast”  (xxxii.  43). 
Men,  beasts,  and  birds,  seem  alike  to  have  deserted  it.  In 
Naphtali  all  is  different.  True,  man  is  almost  a  stranger 
there  also;  but  down  by  the  Jordan  the  pastures  are  cov¬ 
ered  with  droves  of  kine  and  buffalos ;  and  the  jungles  are 
filled  with  wild  swine ;  and  the  surface  of  lake  and  river  is 
all  astir  with  fowl.  The  mountain  glens  are  infested  with 
leopards,  hyenas,  and  jackals ;  and  troops  of  fleet  gazelles 
scour  the  upland  plains. 

MOSES’  BLESSING  TO  NAPHTALI. 

The  Jewish  lawgiver  saw  in  prophetic  vision  the  country 
in  store  for  Uaphtali,  and  in  poetic  imagery  sketched  its 
leading  features.  Unfortunately  our  English  version  cloaks 
rather  than  reveals  the  graphic  touches  of  the  Hebrew.  I 
shall  try  to  bring  out  the  true  meaning.  The  blessing  is  an 
exclamation ;  as  if,  with  eye  opened,  the  seer  had  been  en¬ 
raptured  by  the  sudden  exhibition  of  a  bright  and  joyous 
picture:  “0  JVaphtali ,  satisfied  with  favour,  filled  with  the 
blessing  of  Jehovah ,  possess  thou  the  sea  and  Darom ” 
(Deut.  xxxiii.  23).  “Possess  thou  the  seafi  that  is,  the  Sea 
of  Galilee  with  its  sunny,  fertile  shores ;  “  a?id  Darom  fi 
the  proper  name  of  the  mountain-district,  the  highlands, 
probably  so  called  from  the  southern  aspect  and  bright 
landscapes.* 

*  The  English  version  has,  instead  of  “  the  sea  and  Darom,”  “  the  west  and  the  south.” 
The  Hebrew  word  for  the  “  sea  ”  is  also  applied  to  the  “  west,”  because  the  sea  was  the 
western  boundary  of  Palestine ;  and  the  word  Darom ,  though  in  this  passage  a  proper 
name,  also  signifies  “the  south,”  or  “a  southern  region.”  Thus  the  error  in  translation 
originated ;  an  error  which  the  geographer  alone  could  detect  and  correct. 


HISTORY  OF  NAPHTALI. 


265 


How  expressive  are  these  words  !  They  throw  light  too 
on  a  somewhat  obscure  passage  in  the  New  Testament. 
When  our  Lord  left  his  native  Nazareth,  and  made  Caper¬ 
naum  his  home,  and  the  country  around  it  the  scene  of  his 
miracles  and  his  teachings,  Matthew  says, — and  here  again, 
in  order  to  bring  out  the  full  meaning  of  the  sacred  writer, 
I  must  somewhat  alter  our  English  version,  usually  so  cor¬ 
rect  and  so  beautiful, — “And  leaving  Nazareth  he  came  and 
dwelt  in  Capernaum,  which  is  upon  the  sea  coast ,  in  the 
borders  of  Zabulon  and  Nephthalim;  that  it  might  be  ful¬ 
filled  which  was  spoken  by  Isaiah  the  prophet,  saying: 
The  land  of  Zabulon,  and  the  land  of  Nephthalim,  the  re¬ 
gion  of  the  sea ,  Peroea ,  Galilee  of  the  Gentiles  ;  the  people 
which  sat  in  darkness  saw  great  light”  (Matt.  iv.  13-16). 
Here,  be  it  observed,  the  district  called  “  the  region  of  the 
sea,”  is  the  same  which  Moses  calls  “  the  sea ;”  and  “  Gali¬ 
lee  of  the  Gentiles”  was  the  name  given  in  the  time  of 
Isaiah  and  of  our  Lord  to  the  more  ancient  u  Darom.” 

HISTORY  OF  NAPHTALI. 

It  is  interesting  and  instructive  to  note  the  effect  which 
its  geographical  position  had  upon  the  character  and  his¬ 
tory  of  Naphtali.  It  was  separated  from  the  great  body 
of  the  nation.  The  power  of  Israel  lay  in  the  mountains 
of  Ephraim  and  Judah.  The  plain  of  Jezreel,  so  often 
swept  by  foreign  armies  and  desert  hordes,  almost  cut  off 
communication  with  Naphtali,  and  left  that  tribe  isolated 
and  helpless  amid  its  mountains.  Need  we  wonder  that 
under  such  circumstances  it  showed  timidity  and  indecision 
— that  it  shrunk  from  active  warfare,  and  left  some  of  its 
allotted  cities  in  the  hands  of  the  Canaanites,  rather  than 
battle  for  its  rights  (Judges  i.  33).  Even  Barak,  Naphtali’s 
most  renowned  warrior,  refused  to  take  the  field  until  De¬ 
borah  consented  to  accompany  him, — u  If  thou  wilt  go  with 
me,  then  I  will  go ;  but  if  thou  wilt  not  go  with  me,  I  will 
not  go ;”  to  which  the  prophetess  rebuking  replied,  that  his 


266 


GALILEE  AND  THE  SEA-COAST. 


hesitation  would  strip  him  of  his  glory,  and  confer  it  on  a 
woman  (Judges  iv.  6-9).  But,  on  the  other  hand,  when  the 
tribe  was  once  forced  to  war,  when  driven  to  bay,  as  it 
were,  by  an  implacable  foe — when  hesitation  and  timidity 
could  not  secure  safety,  then  the  Naphtalites  showed  the 
activity,  the  endurance,  and  the  heroic  spirit  of  mountain¬ 
eers.  Sisera  learned  this  from  fatal  experience  on  the  banks 
of  the  Kishon.  Viewed  thus  in  the  light  of  history  we  can 
understand  the  meaning  of  Jacob’s  blessing,  “ Naphtali  is 
a  hind  let  loose ”  (Gen.  xlix.  21).  It  would  seem  as  if  the 
patriarch’s  eye  had  swept  these  northern  mountains,  and 
had  selected  one  of  their  own  gazelles  as  a  fit  emblem  of 
the  tribe.  Ever  timid  and  undecided  at  first — more  in¬ 
clined  to  flee  than  to  fight ;  but  when  once  brought  to  bay, 
a  fierce,  active,  and  dangerous  foe.  Some  have  said  our 
English  version  is  here  wrong.  I  cannot  see  it.  The  ren¬ 
dering  of  the  Hebrew  is  literal  and  grammatical.  The 
allusion  is  beautiful  and  true  (compare  2  Sam.  ii.  18;  1 
Chron.  xii.  8). 

The  geographical  position  of  Naphtali  produced  other 
effects  upon  its  history.  The  tribe  occupied  border-land. 
It  came  into  close  contact  with  the  Syrians  of  Damascus, 
with  the  mountain  tribes  of  Lebanon,  and  especially  with 
the  great  commercial  nation  of  Phoenicia.  Separated  from 
the  body  of  the  Jewish  people,  forced  into  connection 
with  strangers,  the  Naphtalites  became  less  exclusive  than 
their  brethren.  The  Phoenicians  traded  with  them,  and 
settled  among  them  (1  Kings  ix.  11-13).  That  sharp  line 
which  separated  Jew  and  Gentile  was  in  part  at  least  oblit¬ 
erated.  In  worship,  in  manners,  and  even  in  language,  they 
accommodated  themselves  to  their  Gentile  neighbours,  and, 
at  length,  the  whole  land  was  called  “  Galilee  of  the  Gen¬ 
tiles,”  and  its  people  lost  caste  with  the  exclusive  Jews  of 
the  South.  These  facts  may  help  to  explain  the  question 
of  Nathanael,  “Can  any  good  thing  come  out  of  Naza¬ 
reth  ?”  (John  i.  46) ;  and  the  remark  of  the  woman  regard- 


MOUNTAIN  SCENERY. 


267 


ing  Peter,  <c  Thou  art  a  Galilean,  and  thy  speech  agreeth 
thereto ”  (Mark  xiv.  70).  Placed  on  the  northern  frontier, 
Naphtali  bore  the  first  brunt  of  every  invasion  from  that 
quarter.  The  generals  of  Benhadad  of  Damascus  “  smote 
Ijon,  and  Dan,  and  Abel-beth-maachah,  and  all  the  land  of 
Naphtali”  (l  Kings  xv.  20);  and  Naphtali  was  the  first 
among  the  tribes  of  Israel  to  fall  beneath  the  power  of 
Assyria,  and  to  feel  the  captive’s  chain  (2  Kings  xv.  29). 

MOUNTAIN  SCENERY. 

It  was  a  sunny  day  in  the  month  of  May  I  last  rode 
through  the  tangled  thickets  of  thorns  and  thistles  on  the 
desolate  plain  of  Gennesaret,  and  after  a  farewell  visit  to 
Chorazin,  Bethsaida,  and  Capernaum,  turned  my  horse’s 
head  towards  the  mountains  of  Naphtali.  The  heat  along 
the  shore  was  intense ;  but  as  I  climbed  the  rugged  steep, 
refreshing  breezes  fanned  my  cheek,  and  the  perfume  of  a 
thousand  flowers  filled  the  air.  Poppies,  anemones,  mari¬ 
golds,  convolvulus,  star  of  Bethlehem,  and  numerous  others, 
clothed  the  mountain  side, — here  a  field  of  bright  unbroken 
scarlet ;  there  another  of  golden  yellow ;  yonder  a  bank  of 
shrubs  and  dwarf  oaks,  all  draped  and  festooned  with  snow- 
white  convolvulus ;  and  the  intervals  everywhere  filled  up 
with  a  glowing  mosaic  of  rainbow  hues, — 

0 

“  And  what  a  wilderness  of  flowers ! 

It  seemed  as  though  from  all  the  bowers, 

And  fairest  fields  of  all  the  year, 

The  mingled  spoil  were  scattered  here.” 

It  was  a  rugged  and  toilsome  path.  Often  there  was  no 
path  at  all ;  and  we  rode  right  on  up  bank,  through  brake, 
guiding  our  course  by  the  frowning  battlements  of  Safed, 
which  loomed  against  the  bright  blue  sky  far  overhead. 
From  the  hill-side  we  turned  into  a  wild  glen,  where  the 
voice  of  the  turtle  floated  from  tree  to  tree ;  and  the  cooing 
of  countless  wood-pigeons  ran  like  a  stream  of  soft  melody 
along  the  jagged  clifls  above  us. 


268 


GALILEE  AND  THE  SEA-COAST. 


We  stopped  at  intervals  to  look  out  over  the  country  as 
it  gradually  opened  up  behind  us.  I  say  we  /  for  I  was 
not  now  alone — a  goodly  company  of  pilgrim  friends  from 
the  far  west  encircled  me,  all  as  fully  alive  to  the  beauties 
of  nature  and  the  absorbing  interest  of  “  holy  places  ”  as  I 
was  myself.  I  remember  well  one  spot  where  we  reined  up 
in  a  retired  nook,  under  the  shade  of  a  huge  walnut,  to  ad¬ 
mire  a  scene  of  surpassing  grandeur.  In  the  foreground, 
on  the  left,  rose  a  limestone  cliff  three  hundred  feet  or 
more.  Half  way  up  was  the  fa§ade  and  dark  door  of  an 
ancient  sepulchre.  Beyond  it  away  down  through  the 
vista  of  the  wild  glen,  slept  the  Sea  of  Galilee  in  its  deep, 
deep  bed.  In  the  back-ground  was  the  mountain-chain  of 
Gilead — a  massive  wall  of  rich  purple ;  and  on  the  right, 
over  a  forest  of  brown  hill-tops,  rose  the  graceful  rounded 
summit  of  Tabor. 

SAFED - THE  EARTHQUAKE. 

We  pitched  our  tents  beside  the  castle  of  Safed,  and 
spent  the  evening  in  exploring  its  ruins.  It  crowns  a  peak, 
two  thousand  seven  hundred  and  seventy-five  feet  high, 
which  forms  the  southern  culminating  point  of  the  moun¬ 
tains  of  Naphtali.  The  town  lies  along  the  steep  slope 
beneath,  and  contains  a  population  of  a  thousand  Jews  and 
two  to  three  thousand  Muslems.  The  houses  are  ranged 
like  terraces — the  roofs  of  the  lower  tiers  forming  the 
streets  of  those  above.  This  accounts  for  the  great  des¬ 
truction  of  property  and  the  terrible  sacrifice  of  human 
life  during  the  earthquake  of  1837.  Safed  was  then  much 
larger  than  at  present ;  but  in  a  single  moment  three-fourths 
of  its  houses  were  thrown  down,  and  five  thousand  of  its 
inhabitants  buried  beneath  them.  The  poor  Jews  suffered 
most.  The  spectacle  presented  after  the  earthquake  was 
heart-rending.  Many  were  killed  instantly ;  others,  buried 
beneath  ruins,  or  wedged  in  by  fallen  stones  and  timber, 
perished  miserably  before  they  could  be  released;  a  few 


SAFED. 


269 


were  only  extricated  after  five  or  six  days,  covered  with 
wounds,  fainting  with  thirst. 

Abundant  traces  of  the  earthquake  were  still  there. 
Many  of  the  largest  and  best  houses  in  the  town  shattered 
and  deserted ;  others,  though  still  habitable,  rent  from  top 
to  bottom  ;  the  battlements  and  towers  of  the  old  castle 
lying  in  confused  heaps ;  and  what  was  far  more  impressive 
than  all,  and  enabled  one  to  form  a  fuller  idea  of  the  ap¬ 
palling  catastrophe,  the  whole  surface  of  the  ground,  on 
the  top  and  round  the  sides  of  the  hill,  bore  marks  of  the 
frightful  convulsion ; — here,  great  masses  of  rock  rent  and 
torn ;  there,  huge  fissures  in  the  earth,  half  filled  with  loose 
clay  and  stones  from  the  shivered  sides. 

Hugh  Miller  has  somewhere  said,  “  The  natural  bound¬ 
aries  of  the  geographer  are  rarely  described  by  right  lines. 
Whenever  these  occur,  however,  the  geologist  may  look  for 
something  remarkable.”  Probably  Palestine  affords  the 
best  example  of  this  in  the  world.  From  the  foot  of  Her- 
mon  to  the  borders  of  Edom  the  Jordan  valley  is  a  right 
line,  straight  as  an  arrow ;  and  nowhere  else  does  the  geol¬ 
ogist  meet  with  such  remarkable  physical  phenomena.  The 
whole  valley,  as  I  have  shown  elsewhere,  is  a  huge  fissure 
in  earth’s  crust,  varying  from  one  to  thirteen  hundred  feet 
in  depth.  Asphalt  is  thrown  up  from  its  bed ;  sulphureous 
vapours  and  boiling  waters  are  emitted  at  intervals ;  while 
the  mountain-chains  on  each  side  are  every  few  years 
shaken  to  their  base  by  internal  convulsions.  Safed  ap¬ 
pears  to  be  one  of  the  grand  centres  of  volcanic  action; 
and  it  is  interesting  to  note  how  the  hot  springs  at  Tibe¬ 
rias,  Gadara,  and  Callirrhoe  on  the  shore  of  the  Head  Sea, 
well  out  in  unison  with  the  throbs  of  its  fiery  heart. 

Safed  is  one  of  the  four  Jewish  il  holy  places  ”  in  Pales¬ 
tine,  and  yet  it  has  no  Biblical  interest.  Its  castle  is  a  relic 
of  the  Crusades,  originally  built  and  garrisoned  by  the  heroic 
Templars.  The  great  attraction  of  the  place  now,  at  least 
for  the  Christian  pilgrims,  is  the  noble  panorama  it  com- 


270 


GALILEE  AND  THE  SEA-COAST. 


mands.  From  its  crumbling  battlements  one  gets  perhaps 
the  best  view  of  the  deep  basin  of  the  lake  of  Tiberias,  and 
the  chasm  of  the  Jordan  entering  and  leaving  it ;  and  then 
he  can  look  away  out  across  the  plateau  of  Bashan  to  its 
mountain-chain  on  the  eastern  horizon.  On  the  south-east 
is  the  range  of  Gilead ;  and  on  the  south  the  eye  roams  at 
will  among  the  wooded  hills,  and  winding  glens,  and  green 
plains  of  Lower  Galilee. 

KEDESH - NAPHTALI. 

I  did  not  take  the  direct  road  to  Kcdesh.  It  was  always 
my  plan  in  travelling  through  Bible  lands  to  select  the 
routes  of  greatest  interest,  though  they  might  not  be  the 
shortest.  I  did  so  now.  Diverging  to  the  right,  I  rode 
round  the  head  of  a  ravine,  and  then  along  the  eastern  base 
of  a  conical  hill  which  overtops  Safed.  In  half  an  hour  we 
reached  the  brow  of  the  mountain  ridge,  overlooking  one  of 
the  most  magnificent  prospects  in  Syria.  At  our  feet  lay 
the  plain  of  the  Upper  Jordan,  covered  with  verdure,  and 
having  the  lake  Merom  sleeping  peacefully  in  its  southern 
end.  Beyond  it  rose  Hermon,  towering  fully  ten  thousand 
feet  above  the  plain,  its  top  covered  with  snow,  and  sharp¬ 
ly  defined  against  the  clear  blue  sky,  as  if  chiselled  in  mar¬ 
ble.  To  the  left  the  long  serried  ridge  of  Lebanon  ran 
away,  peak  upon  peak,  all  snow-capped,  until  lost  in  the 
distance.  We  stood  spell-bound, — 

“  While  Admiration,  feeding  at  the  eye, 

And  still  unsated,  dwelt  upon  the  scene.” 

Over  the  undulating  upland  plains  of  Napthali  our  path 
now  led, — past  little  villages,  through  ripening  fields  of 
wheat  and  barley,  and  across  luxuriant  wastes,  over  which 
gazelles  bounded  before  us  in  joyous  troops.  We  zig¬ 
zagged  down  into  the  wild  ravine  of  Hendaj,  and  ate  our 
lunch  where  a  willow  drooped  its  weeping  branches  over 
a  foaming  torrent.  On  the  banks  of  this  stream,  farther 
down,  overlooking  the  “  waters  of  Merom,”  lie,  as  we  shat] 


KEDESH. 


271 


see,  the  remains  of  royal  Hazor.  As  we  sat  there  amid 
gorgeous  oleander  flowers,  the  thought  occurred  to  us,  that 
Sisera  in  his  flight  probably  crossed  the  glen  near  this  spot ; 
for  it  was  on  the  high  plain  to  the  north  he  fell  by  the 
treacherous  hand  of  Jael. 

At  length  we  reached  Kedesli,  the  “  sanctuary  ”  (such  is 
the  meaning  of  the  name)  of  ISTaphtali,  and  the  city  of  re¬ 
fuge  for  the  northern  tribes.  The  site  is  beautiful  —  the 
summit  and  sides  of  a  little  ridge  projecting  from  wooded 
heights  on  the  west  into  a  green  plain.  But  the  royal 
city  of  the  Canaanites  (Judges  xii.  22),  “the  holy  place” 
of  Northern  Palestine,  is  now  ruined  and  desolate.  True, 
there  are  a  few  hovels  on  a  corner  of  the  site,  and  a  few 
shepherds  on  its  pastures ;  yet  the  glory  and  the  sacred¬ 
ness  of  Kedesh  have  long  since  departed.  Nought  re¬ 
mains  to  mark  them  save  the  old  name  and  wide-spread 
ruins.  The  ridge  is  strewn  with  ruins, — columns  half  bur¬ 
ied  in  the  soil ;  hewn  stones  gathered  in  heaps  among  corn¬ 
fields,  or  built  in  rude  fences  around  tobacco  gardens ;  and 
foundations  too  massive  to  be  removed  by  the  spoiler’s 
hand. 

But  the  most  interesting  remains  are  in  the  plain.  The 
first  building  I  examined  was  a  square  mausoleum,  massive 
and  simple ;  its  only  ornament  a  bold  moulding  round  the 
doorway.  The  interior  is  cruciform,  and  contains  a  number 
of  recesses,  or  loculi ,  for  bodies,  in  some  of  which  are 
mouldering  bones.  I  had  before  seen  similar  tombs  in  Ba- 
shan  and  anti-Lebanon.  They  are  all  probably  of  the 
Roman  age.  Not  far  distant  is  a  group  of  beautiful  sarco¬ 
phagi,  placed  together  on  a  platform  of  solid  masonry  some 
six  feet  high.  I  have  seen  hundreds  of  sarcophagi  else¬ 
where  in  Palestine  and  Syria,  but  none  like  these.  Two  of 
them  are  double, — that  is,  each  block  has  two  graves  ex¬ 
cavated  in  it,  side  by  side,  and  covered  by  one  lid.  There 
are  also  two  single  ones — six  in  all.  They  were  richly 
carved  and  sculptured ;  and  although  much  worn,  we  can 


272 


GALILEE  AND  THE  SEA  COAST. 


discover  wreaths  of  leaves  and  pine  cones  along  the  sides 
of  one,  rams’  heads  at  the  angles  of  another,  and  an  eagle 
on  another. 

To  the  east  of  these  are  the  ruins  of  a  temple.  The  por¬ 
tico  has  fallen,  and  its  Corinthian  columns  are  almost  cov¬ 
ered  with  thorns  and  thistles.  A  triple  doorway,  hand¬ 
somely  ornamented  with  wreaths  of  fruit  and  flowers,  re¬ 
mains  perfect.  On  the  lintel  of  one  of  the  side-doors  is  an 
eagle  with  expanded  wings. 

Dr.  Robinson  supposed  that  these  remains  were  of  Jew¬ 
ish  origin ;  and  there  seemed  some  cause  for  the  belief  in 
the  fact,  that  a  Jewish  tradition  of  the  middle  ages  placed 
here  the  sepulchres  and  monuments  of  Barak,  Deborah,  and 
Jael.  When  I  saw  them  I  thought  the  style  of  the  archi¬ 
tecture  and  the  sculptures  on  the  sarcophagi  were  Roman 
or  Grecian  rather  than  Jewish.  Other  travellers  have 
since  examined  them  more  thoroughly,  and  the  result  shows 
that  my  impressions  were  correct.  An  altar  has  been  dis¬ 
covered  at  the  large  building,  with  a  Greek  inscription, 
almost  obliterated,  containing  a  dedication  to  “the  gods.” 

barak’s  victory. 

Kedesh  was  the  birth-place  of  Barak,  Kaphtali’s  hero 
and  Israel’s  deliverer.  From  Kedesh  Deborah  summoned 
him  to  fight  the  battle  of  his  country,  and  from  hence  he 
marched  at  the  head  of  ten  thousand  brave  men.  At  Ke¬ 
desh  was  thus  enacted  the  first  scene  of  that  historic 
drama ;  and  beside  it  the  last  act  also  was  performed.  At 
that  time  the  tribe  of  Heber  the  Kenite  was  encamped 
“  at  the  terebinths  of  Zaanaim,  which  is  by  Kedesh  ” 
(Judges  iv.  11) . It  was  the  second  day  after  the  bat¬ 

tle  on  Esdraelon;  but  the  news  had  not  yet  reached  these 
mountains.  From  the  towers  of  Hazor  watchmen  looked  in 
vain  for  a  messenger ;  and  the  mother  of  Sisera  called  from 
her  window,  “  Why  is  his  chariot  so  long  in  coming  ?  why 
tarry  the  wheels  of  his  chariots  ?”(v.  28).  On  the  evening 


BETIt-REHOB. 


273 


of  that  day,  a  solitary  footman  is  seen  aj)proaching  the  tent 
of  Heber.  His  step  is  tottering ;  his  dress  rent  and  covered 
with  mire;  in  his  face  is  pictured  black  despair.  Jael  hast¬ 
ens  forth  to  meet  him.  It  is  Sisera.  She  needs  to  ask  no 
questions,  for  she  can  read  the  whole  story  at  a  glance. 
And  hark!  the  cries  of  the  pursuers  already  echo  through 
the  mountains.  See !  their  weapons  flash  amid  the  foliage. 
“Turn  in,  my  lord, turn  in  to  me — fear  not.”  He  turned  in 
to  the  tent.  “  Give  me  a  little  water — I  am  thirsty.”  She 
gave  him  milk :  he  drank,  and  sank  exhausted  into  sleep. 
It  was  his  last  sleep.  Jael  took  an  iron  tent-pin  in  one 
hand,  and  a  heavy  mallet  in  the  other,  and  by  a  single 
blow  pierced  the  temples  of  the  sleeping  warrior.  So  died 
Sisera. 

Beneath  the  shade  of  a  terebinth,  by  the  ruins  of  Ke- 
desh,  I  read  this  tragic  tale.  Before  me,  in  a  forest  glade, 
were  the  black  tents  of  some  Turkmans,  modern  represent¬ 
atives  of  the  Kenites.  I  saw  the  large  iron  tent-pins ;  I 
saw  the  mallets  with  which  the  women  drive  them  into  the 
ground  when  encamping,  for  this  is  their  work.  I  saw  the 
women  themselves — strong,  active,  fierce-looking  women, 
just  as  fancy  would  picture  a  Jael.  There  was  little  want¬ 
ing  to  complete  the  scene.  That  little  imagination  easily 
supplied;  and  there  again  was  realized  before  me  one  of 
the  most  graphic  of  Bible  stories. 

BETH-REHOB. 

I  rode  on  north-east  for  two  hours  through  a  richly 
wooded  country,  and  then  came  out  on  the  eastern  brow  of 
the  mountain  range.  A  sharp  descent  of  twenty  minutes 
brought  me  to  the  village  of  Hunin.  The  great  attraction 
here  is  the  castle,  now  in  ruins,  but  exhibiting  in  its  mass¬ 
ive  foundations  and  shattered  towers  specimens  of  the 
workmanship  of  every  race  that  held  the  country  from  the 
Phoenicians  to  the  Turks.  The  site  is  most  commanding, — 
a  terrace  on  the  steep  mountain  side,  a  thousand  feet  above 


274 


GALILEE  AND  THE  SEA- COAST, 


the  plain  of  Dan.  Facing  it,  on  the  opposite  range  of 
Hermon,  I  saw  the  ruins  of  Caesarea  Philippi.  The  sacred 
writer,  in  telling  the  story  of  the  capture  of  Laish  by  the 
Danites,  says  it  was  situated  “  in  the  valley  that  lieth  by 
Beth-JRehob ”  (Judges  xviii.  28).  There  was  the  valley  be¬ 
low  me,  and  yonder  little  rounded  hill  in  the  midst  of  it  is 
the  site  of  Laish.  Is  not  this  therefore  Beth-Rehob  ? 

I  here  bade  adieu  to  fbe  mountains  of  Naphtali,  and  rode 
over  to  the  fountains  of  the  Jordan. 

THE  INVASION  OF  TIGLATH-PILESEK. 

During  another  tour,  made  at  the  same  season  of  the 
year,  I  traversed  N aphtali  from  north  to  south.  Crossing 
the  Leontes  at  the  Castle  of  Shukif,  I  rode  over  a  low  ridge 
into  the  beautiful  plain  of  Merj  ’Ayun,  which  lies  on  the 
northern  frontier  of  Naphtali.  I  ascended  the  isolated  tell 
Dibbin,  at  the  upper  end  of  the  plain.  It  is  about  a  hun¬ 
dred  feet  high,  and  on  its  flat  top  and  round  base  are  heaps 
of  stones  and  rubbish.  The  tell  takes  its  name  from  a 
neighbouring  village,  but  the  name  of  the  plain  is  ancient. 
It  is  not  difficult  to  recognise  the  Hebrew  Ijon  in  the 
Arabic  Ayun .  On  this  spot  stood  Ijon,  the  first  city 
captured  by  Benhadad  when  he  invaded  Northern  Pales¬ 
tine  (1  Kings  xv.  20),  and  the  first  taken  by  Tiglath-pi- 
leser  (2  Kings  xv.  29). 

I  was  now  prepared  to  trace  the  route  of  the  Assyrian 
conqueror — that  route  along  which  he  led  so  many  weep¬ 
ing  captives  in  his  train. 

I  rode  down  through  fields  of  corn  and  green  meadows 
to  the  foot  of  the  plain,  some  five  miles  from  Ijon.  Here, 
on  the  top  of  a  little  conical  hill,  stands  the  village  of  Abel , 
on  the  site  of  Abel-beth-Maaehah ,  the  second  city  cap- 
tured  by  Tiglath-pileser.  From  it  the  Assyrians  ascended 
the  mountains  and  marched  upon  Kedesh.  I  rode  south¬ 
wards  along  their  eastern  base  to  survey  the  plain  of  Huleh 
(or  Merom),  and  search  for  the  site  of  Hazor. 


SITE  OF  HAZOR  DISCOVERED. 


275 


After  a  long  ride,  the  incidents  of  which  I  must  here  pass 
over,  I  reached  an  undulating  plain  lying  between  the  foot 
of  the  mountains  and  the  western  shore  of  the  waters  of 
Merom.  Ascending  a  projecting  ridge,  I  examined  the 
country  minutely,  and  felt  convinced  that  I  had  before  me 
the  battle-field  where  Joshua  overthrew  the  northern  con¬ 
federacy  :  “  So  Joshua  came  against  them  at  the  waters  of 
Merom  suddenly  ”  (xi.  7).  If  so,  where  was  Hazor?  It 
must  have  been  close  at  hand,  for  after  the  pursuit  was 
over,  “  Joshua  turned  back  and  took  Hazor” 

SITE  OF  HAZOR  DISCOVERED. 

The  incidental  notices  of  the  sacred  writers  place  Hazor 
south  of  Kedesh  (Josh.  xix.  36 ;  2  Kings  xv.  29) ;  and  Jo¬ 
sephus  states  that  it  was  situated  over  the  lake  of  Merom, 
and  so  close  to  it  that  the  plain  round  the  lake  was  called 
by  its  name. 

Beside  where  I  sat  was  the  mouth  of  the  ravine  of  Hen- 
daj.  Mounting  my  horse,  I  followed  a  broad  path,  like  an 
old  highway,  up  its  southern  bank,  and  soon  came  upon  the 
ruins  of  an  ancient  city.  Not  a  building — not  even  a  foun¬ 
dation  was  perfect.  Large  cisterns,  heaps  of  stones,  mounds 
of  rubbish,  prostrate  columns,  the  remains  of  a  temple,  and 
an  altar  with  a  Greek  inscription — such  were  the  ruins 
strewn  over  this  site.  I  thought  at  the  time  that  these 
might  be  the  ruins  of  Hazor,  and  I  have  since  become  more 
and  more  confirmed  in  the  belief. 

From  this  interesting  spot  I  rode  over  the  mountains  to 
Safed,  and  thence  I  took  a  straight  course  down  a  rugged 
hill  side,  and  across  undulating  table-land  overgrown  with 
thickets  of  gigantic  thistles,  to  the  mouth  of  the  Jordan, 
where  it  enters  the  Sea  of  Galilee.  It  was  a  toilsome  but 
most  interesting  ride,  affording  a  clear  view  at  once  of  the 
wonderful  richness  of  the  soil,  and  no  less  wonderful  deso¬ 
lation  of  the  country. 

Having  thus  traversed  Naphtali,  which  constitutes  tho 


276 


GALILEE  AND  THE  SEA-COAST. 


eastern  division  of  Northern  Palestine,  I  now  turn  to  PIkb- 
nicia  the  Western. 


PHOENICIA. 

Along  the  whole  sea-hoard  of  Palestine  extends  a  low 
plain,  twenty  miles  wide  at  the  southern  end,  but  at  the 
northern  a  mere  strip.  In  Bible  times  it  was  divided  into 
three  provinces,  —  Philistia,  Sharon,  and  Phoenicia.  The 
ridge  of  Carmel  separated  the  two  latter.  At  its  northern 
base  is  the  plain  of  Acre,  reaching  inland  till  it  joins  Es- 
draelon.  But  the  mountains  of  Naphtali  first,  and  then  the 
loftier  and  bolder  chain  of  Lebanon,  shoot  out  their  western 
roots,  and  the  coast-plain,  from  Achzib  to  the  entrance  of 
Hamath,  does  not  average  more  than  a  mile  in  breadth, 
and  is  often  intersected  by  rocky  promontories.  On  this 
narrow  tract,  under  the  shadow  of  Lebanon,  stood  the 
world-renowned  cities  of  Tyre  and  Sidon. 

The  founders  of  Phoenicia  were  Sidon,  ArvacI,  and  Arki 
(Gen.  x.  15-18)  sons  of  Canaan,  and  consequently,  in  the 
Bible  as  well  as  on  their  own  coins  and  monuments,  the 
people  are  always  called  “Canaanites”  (Judges  i.  31,  32). 
The  name  Phoenicia  is  of  Greek  origin,  and  probably  de¬ 
rived  from  the  “palms”  ( phoenikes )  that  once  waved  on 
the  sunny  plain.  Phoenicia  was  the  great  mother  of  com¬ 
merce — the  England,  in  fact,  of  the  Old  World.  The 
proudest  cities  along  the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean  were 
her  daughters;  Carthage,  Syracuse,  Cadiz,  Marseilles,  and 
many  others.  The  plain  of  Phoenicia  was  included  in  the 
Land  of  Promise  (Josh.  xiii.  4-6),  but  the  Israelites  were 
unable,  and  probably  unwilling,  to  expel  the  wealthy  and 
powerful  traders  (Judges  i.  31,  32).  David  and  Solomon 
even  sought  their  aid  as  seamen,  and  took  advantage  of 
their  skill  as  architects  (2  Sam.  v.  11  ;  1  Kings  v. ;  ix.  27). 

Thus,  while  the  sacred  interest  that  clusters  round  every 
spot  in  Palestine  can  scarce  be  said  to  find  a  place  in  Phoe¬ 
nicia,  there  is  a  historic  interest  in  its  wave-washed  ruins 


THE  SEA-COAST. 


277 


that  makes  them  dear  to  the  scholar ;  and  there  is  an  oc¬ 
casional  connection  between  them  and  Bible  story,  which 
awakens  the  attention  of  the  Christian.  Elijah’s  miracle  at 
Zarephath,  a  city  of  Sidon  (1  Kings  xvii.  9;  Luke  iv.  26), 
our  Lord’s  interview  with  the  Syro-Phcenician  woman 
(Matt.  xv.  21 ;  Mark  vii.  26),  and  the  Apostle  Paul’s  visits 
to  Tyre  (Acts  xxi.  3),  Sidon  (xxvii.  3)  and  Ptolemais  (xxi. 
7),  can  never  be  forgotten.  Phoenicia,  too,  is  full  of  pro¬ 
phetic  interest.  The  infallible  truth  of  Scripture  is  written 
upon  her  desolate  shores. 

THE  SEA  COAST. 

My  first  ride  through  Phoenicia  was  a  continuation  of 
one  of  my  earliest  tours  in  the  Holy  Land.  Many  years 
have  passed  since  then,  but  the  scenes  are  still  fresh  before 
the  eye  of  memory.  From  Nazareth  I  journeyed  west¬ 
ward  through  the  wooded  hills  of  Galilee  and  across  the 
rich  plain  to  Acre.  Accho,  or  Ptolemais,  has  little  Bibli¬ 
cal  interest,  so  I  pass  it  and  ride  northward  to  Aclizib,  one 
of  those  cities  which  Asher  thought  it  best  to  leave,  with 
Accho  and  Zidon,  in  the  hands  of  the  Phoenicians  (Judges 
i.  31).  The  hills  were  now  close  upon  my  right,  clothed 
with  olive  groves,  which  brought  to  my  mind  Moses’  bless¬ 
ing  upon  Asher — a  Let  him  clip  his  foot  in  oil ”  (Deut. 
xxxiii.  24).  I  scaled  the  Tyrian  Ladder,  a  bold  headland 
which  shoots  far  into  the  sea,  and  in  two  hours  more  I  clam¬ 
bered  up  the  dizzy  staircase  to  the  top  of  the  White  Cape — 
a  perpendicular  cliff  of  limestone  rising  hundreds  of  feet 
from  the  bosom  of  the  deep ;  along  its  brow  the  ancient  and 
only  road  is  carried,  hewn  in  the  living  rock.  Thence  I 
pushed  onwards  and  encamped  at  the  fountains  of  Tyre. 

Nearly  the  whole  shore  from  the  Tyrian  Ladder  north¬ 
wards  was  strewn  with  ruins.  Heaps  of  hewn  stones  and 
quantities  of  marble  tesserae  lay  in  my  path ;  while  broken 
shafts  and  mounds  of  rubbish  were  seen  to  the  light  and 
left — here  crowning  a  oliff,  there  washel  by  the  waves. 


278  GALILEE  AND  THE  SEA-COAST. 

One  thing  I  specially  noted :  from  the  time  I  left  Achzib 
till  I  reached  the  fountains  I  did  not  see  a  human  being, — 
a  mournful  and  solitary  silence  reigns  along  Phoenicia’s 
coast. 

TYRE. 

I  spent  two  days  at  Tyre,  and  they  were  not  the  least 
interesting  of  my  pilgrimage.  I  first  examined  the  fount¬ 
ains,  now  called  Ras-el  -’ Ain.  They  are  natural  springs, 
four  in  number,  encircled  by  massive  walls,  which  raise  the 
water  high  enough  to  supply  the  city,  to  which  it  was 
taken  on  arched  aqueducts  more  than  three  miles  in  length. 
Next  I  minutely  surveyed  the  desolate  site  of  “  Old  Tyre,” 
JPalcetyrus  •  and  then  crossing  Alexander’s  mole,  I  explored 
the  whole  remains  of  “  New  Tyre.”  The  results  of  that  and 
other  examinations  I  have  detailed  elsewhere  ( ITand-booTc ), 
and  need  not  repeat  here. 

Tyre  was  a  double  city,  or  rather  there  were  two  cities  of 
the  same  name,  an  old  and  a  new.  The  former  stood  on 
the  main-land,  the  latter  on  an  island  opposite,  half  a  mile 
from  the  shore.  Of  Old  Tyre  not  a  vestige  remains.  I 
searched  the  plain  on  which  it  stood  without  discovering  a 
single  fragment  of  a  wall,  or  a  trace  of  a  foundation,  or  even 
a  heap  of  rubbish.  History  accounts  for  this  remarkable 
fact.  Three  centuries  before  Christ  the  city  was  taken  by 
Alexander  the  Great,  who  immediately  proceeded  to  be¬ 
siege  New  Tyre  on  the  island.  Not  being  able  to  reach  its 
walls  with  his  engines,  he  collected  the  whole  remains  of 
the  old  city — stones,  timber,  rubbish — threw  them  into  the 
narrow  channel,  and  thus  formed  a  causeway. 

Here  we  have  one  of  the  most  striking  fulfilments  of  pro¬ 
phecy  on  record.  Three  centuries  before  Alexander  the 
Great  was  born  Ezekiel  wrote, — “  Thus  saith  the  Lord  God, 
Behold,  I  am  against  thee,  O  Tyrus,  and  will  cause  many 
nations  to  come  up  against  thee,  as  the  sea  causeth  his 
waves  to  come  up.  And  they  shall  destroy  the  walls  of 


RUINS  OF  TYRE. 


279 


Tyrus ,  and  break  down  her  towers :  I  will  also  scrape  her 

dust  from  her ,  and  make  her  like  the  top  of  a  rock . 

They  shall  lay  thy  stones ,  and  thy  timber ,  and  thy  dust  in 

the  midst  of  the  water . I  will  make  thee  a  terror ,  and 

thou  shalt  be  no  more :  though  thou  be  sought  for ,  yet  shalt 
thou  never  be  found  again ,  saith  the  Lord  God ”  (xxvi. 
3,  4,  12,  21). 

Would  it  not  seem  as  if  the  prophet  had  drawn  aside  the 
veil  which  shrouds  futurity,  and  looking  down  through 
five-and-twenty  centuries,  had  seen  that  hare,  unmarked, 
deserted  plain  as  I  saw  it?  One  might  even  imagine  that 
his  prophetic  eye  had  been  able  to  distinguish  a  solitary 
traveller  from  a  far  distant  land  wandering  up  and  down, 
searching,  but  searching  in  vain,  for  the  city  of  which  he 
said,  “  Though  thou  be  sought  for,  yet  shalt  thou  never  be 
found  asrain.” 

o 

New  Tyre  is  now  represented  by  a  poor  village.  The 
ancien*  “  mistress  of  the  seas  ”  can  only  boast  of  a  few  fish¬ 
ing-boats.  The  modern  houses  of  a  better  class  have  had 
their  walls  so  shattered  by  earthquakes  that  the  inhabit¬ 
ants  have  deserted  them ;  and  the  modern  ramparts  are  so 
ruinous  that  I  went  in  and  out  over  them  in  several  places. 
The  most  imposing  ruin  is  that  of  the  cathedral,  built  in  the 
fourth  century,  for  which  Eusebius,  the  ecclesiastical  his¬ 
torian,  wrote  a  consecration  sermon,  and  in  which  William, 
the  historian  of  the  Crusades,  presided  as  archbishop. 

But  one  thing  especially  struck  me  in  wandering  over  the 
site  of  Tyre.  Along  the  shores  of  the  peninsula  lie  huge 
sea-beaten  fragments  of  the  old  wall,  and  piles  of  granite 
and  marble  columns.  They  are  bare  as  the  top  of  a  rock ; 
and  here  and  there  I  saw  the  fishermen  spreading  out  their 
nets  upon  them,  to  dry  in  the  bright  sunshine.  When  I 
saw  them,  I  sat  down  on  one  of  the  highest  fragments,  and 
read,  with  mingled  feelings  of  wonder  and  awe,  the  words 
of  Ezekiel, — “  I  will  make  thee  like  the  top  of  a  rock  /  thou 
shalt  be  a  place  to  spread  nets  upon  ”  (xxvi.  14). 


280 


GALILEE  AND  THE  SEA-COAST. 


SID  ON. 

From  Tyre  to  Siclon  I  rode  in  six  hours,  stopping  in  tho 
interval  to  examine  the  desolate  site  of  the  city  of  Sarepta, 
and  to  read  the  story  of  Elijah’s  visit  and  miracle  (1  Kings 
xvii.  9-24).  The  aspect  of  Tyre  is  bleak  and  bare,  but 
that  of  Sidon  rich  and  blooming.  In  fact,  it  is  one  of  the 
most  picturesque  towns  in  Syriat  It  stands  on  a  low  hill 
which  juts  out  into  the  Mediterranean,  and  is  defended  by 
old  but  •  picturesque  walls  and  towers.  On  a  rocky  islet, 
connected  with  the  city  by  a  broken  bridge,  is  a  ruined 
castle,  once  the  defence  of  the  harbour.  The  ancient  ar¬ 
chitectural  remains  about  Sidon  are  few, — some  marble  and 
granite  columns,  some  pieces  of  mosaic  pavement,  and  some 
fragments  of  sculptured  cornice.  But  the  tombs  are  in¬ 
teresting.  They  dot  the  plain  and  the  mountain  side  be¬ 
yond,  and  have  already  yielded  a  rich  harvest  to  the  anti¬ 
quary, — Phoenician  sarcophagi,  Greek  coins,  funeral  orna¬ 
ments,  and  crystal  vases.  They  would  still  repay  a  fuller 
inspection. 

The  gardens  and  orchards  of  Sidon  are  charming.  Or¬ 
anges,  lemons,  citrons,  bananas,  and  palms,  grow  luxuriant¬ 
ly,  and  give  the  environs  of  the  old  city  a  look  of  eternal 
spring.  Sidon  is  one  of  the  few  spots  in  Syria  where  na¬ 
ture’s  luxuriance  has  triumphed  over  neglect  and  ruin,  and 
where  a  few  relics  of  ancient  prosperity  still  remain  in 
street,  and  mart,  and  harbour.  It  is  instructive  to  compare 
Tyre  and  Sidon.  The  former  far  outstripped  the  latter  in 
grandeur,  wealth,  and  power,  but  its  history  has  been 
briefer  and  more  momentous.  Once  and  again  the  tide  of 
war  swept  over  Tyre,  first  leaving  the  old  city  desolate,  and 
then  the  new  in  ruins.  Sidon  has  been  more  fortunate,  or 
perhaps  I  should  say  less  unfortunate.  The  tide  of  war 
swept  over  it  too,  but  the  wave  was  not  so  destructive. 

How  are  we  to  account  for  this  marked  difference  in  the 
history  of  two  cities,  founded  by  the  same  race,  standing 


BEAUTY  OF  SIDON. 


281 


upon  the  same  shore,  almost  within  sight  of  each  other,  in¬ 
habited  by  the  same  people,  and  exposed  to  the  same  dan¬ 
gers?  Human  foresight,  had  it  been  asked,  would  have 
pronounced  Tyre  the  more  secure,  because  its  position  ren¬ 
dered  it  almost  impregnable.  The  Spirit  of  prophecy  judged 
otherwise.  And  in  answering  this  question,  the  thoughtful 
reader  of  the  Bible  and  the  thoughtful  student  of  history 
will  not  overlook  the  fact,  that  while  Sidon’s  name  is  lightly 
passed  over  by  the  Hebrew  prophets,  the  curses  pronounced 
upon  Tyre  are  among  the  most  sweeping  and  terrible  in  the 
wh  Die  scope  of  prophecy. 


NORTHERN  BORDER  LAND. 


,v.. 


IMranon. 


His  countenance  is  as  Lebanon,  excellent  as  the  cedars.” — Cant.  y.  15. 

EBANOK  was  the  paradise  of  the  Hebrew  poets; 
and  it  is  not  strange  that  it  should  have  been  so. 
For  .grandeur  of  scenery,  richness  of  products, 
and  beauty  of  climate,  it  is  not  surpassed  in  the 
world.  After  Egypt’s  marshy  plains,  and  Sinai’s  naked 
cliffs,  and  the  parched  desert  of  dreary  Arabia,  need  we 
wonder  that  when  Moses  looked  on  Lebanon  —  its  snow- 
crowned  peaks  towering  to  heaven,  its  sides  all  waving 
with  foliage— he  should  have  thus  breathed  forth  to  God 
the  desire  of  his  heart :  “  I  pray  thee  let  me  go  over  and 
see  the  good  land  that  is  beyond  Jordan,  that  goodly 
mountain,  and  Lebanon  ”  ?  (Deut.  iii.  25.) 

Those  only  can  realize  the  luxury  of  shade  and  verdure 
who  have  traversed  under  an  eastern  sun  an  eastern  wilder¬ 
ness.  Solomon,  in  the  matchless  imagery  of  his  Song, 
catches  with  all  a  poet’s  skill  and  with  all  a  poet’s  enthu¬ 
siasm  the  leading  beauties  of  Lebanon.  To  the  inhabitant 
of  Jerusalem,  parched  with  heat  on  a  sultry  summer’s  day, 
the  heaven  above  his  head  brass,  the  white  walls,  and  white 
rocks,  and  white  hills  all  round  him  glowing  like  a  furnace — 
no  fountain,  river,  or  lake,  no  green  meadow,  no  cool  shade 
in  view — what  could  convey  to  his  mind  a  more  enchant¬ 
ing  vision  than  the  words  suggested  by  the  scenery  of 
these  mountains, — “A  garden  inclosed  is  my  sister,  a  fount- 


286 


NORTHERN  BORDER  LAND. 


ain  of  gardens,  a  well  of  living  waters,  and  streams  from 
Lebanon”?  (iv.  12,  15.)  His  eye  also  upon  the  freshness 
of  Lebanon’s  primeval  forests,  its  forests  of  cedar,  and  pine, 
and  evergreen  oak,  and  upon  the  grandeur  of  its  outline,  the 
poet-king  delineates  the  glory  of  the  spouse  by  a  single 
touch:  “His  countenance  is  as  Lebanon”  (v.  15).  And 
then  again,  revelling  in  vivid  imagination  in  those  green 
glades  and  vine-clad  sloj>es,  where  the  air  is  laden  with 
perfume,  he  says  of  the  bride,  “  The  smell  of  thy  garments 
is  like  the  smell  of  Lebanon.” 

How  often  have  I  myself  luxuriated  on  banks  of  sweet 
thyme,  and  in  deep  dells  where  the  myrtle  and  honeysuckle 
give  forth  their  odours,  and  in  gardens  where  the  damask 
rose  and  orange  blossom  fill  the  air  with  perfumes,  amid  the 
heights  of  Lebanon !  How  often,  too,  after  days  of  toil 
and  travel  over  trackless  wastes,  without  the  shadow  even 
of  a  great  rock,  my  lips  parched  with  thirst,  my  eye-balls 
burning  in  their  sockets,  when  at  length  I  climbed  those 
mountains,  and  felt  their  soft  breezes  fanning  my  fevered 
brow,  when  I  quaffed  their  ice-cold  waters,  and  looked  on 
their  snowy  peaks  glittering  under  a  blazing  sun, — how 
often  then  have  I  realized  in  their  full  force  and  meaning 
the  prophet’s  words,  “Will  a  man  leave  the  snow  of  Le¬ 
banon?  or  shall  the  cold-flowing  waters  be  forsaken?”  (Jer. 
xviii.  14.) 

Lebanon  was  ever  before  the  eyes  of  the  ancient  Israel¬ 
ite.  From  every  hill  top  in  Central  Palestine,  from  the 
depths  of  the  Jordan  valley,  from  the  lofty  table-land  of 
Moab  and  Bashan,  he  saw,  away  on  the  northern  horizon, 
those  beautiful  pale  blue  peaks  with  their  glittering  crowns. 
And  when  he  traversed  Galilee,  or  went  down  to  the  shores 
of  its  lake,  then  Lebanon  and  Hermon  rose  in  all  their  ma¬ 
jesty,  appearing  to  him  as  visions  of  paradise.  Can  we 
wonder  that  prophets  spake  and  poets  sung  of  the  “  glory 
of  Lebanon”?  (Isa.  xxxv.  2;  lx.  13.) 

The  name  Lebanon  signifies  “  whiteness and  it  is  ap- 


NAMES  OF  LEBANON. 


2^7 


propriate  whether  we  look  at  the  whiteness  of  its  limestone 
cliffs  or  of  the  snow  upon  its  summit.  It  is  a  singular  fact 
that  the  names  of  the  highest  mountains  in  most  countries 
have  the  same  meaning.  Himalaya,  Alps,  Mont  Blanc, 
Ben  Nevis,  Snowdon,  Sierra  Nevada,  are  all  “white  moun¬ 
tains.”  The  name  Lebanon  in  Scripture  is  applied  to  two 
distinct  mountain  chains  which  run  in  parallel  lines  on  op¬ 
posite  sides  of  the  valley  of  Ccele-Syria.  The  western 
range  is  Lebanon  proper,  and  in  Scripture  is  called  by  no 
other  name ;  the  eastern  is  distinguished  as  “  Lebanon  to¬ 
wards  the  sun  rising”  (Josh.  xiii.  5),  and  its  southern  peaks 
are  known  by  many  names — Hermon,  Sirion,  Amanus,  &c. 
Among  the  people  of  the  country  most  of  the  old  Bible 
names  are  still  used ;  but  more  commonly  “  Lebanon  towards 
the  sun  rising,”  the  Anti-Libanus  of  classic  authors,  is 
called  Jebel  esh-Shurky ,  the  “Eastern  mountain,”  while 
Lebanon  proper  is  styled  Jebel  el-Ghurby ,  the  “Western 
mountain.”  To  Hermon  is  given  the  noble  title  Jebel  esh- 
Sheikh ,  “  Prince  mountain,”  and  it  deserves  it. 

To  the  grand  scenery,  waving  fruit,  and  holy  and  his¬ 
toric  associations  of  Lebanon  proper,  I  shall  now  endeavour 
to  introduce  my  reader. 

PHYSICAL  FEATUKES  OF  LEBANON. 

The  range  of  Lebanon  is  about  a  hundred  miles  long.  It 
follows  the  shore  of  the  Mediterranean,  here  sending  out 
rugged  roots  far  into  the  sea,  and  here  leaving  a  strip  of 
plain  bordered  by  a  pebbly  strand.  This  plain  has  a  fa¬ 
mous  name  and  a  proud  history  of  its  own.  It  is  Phoenicia , 
the  England  of  antiquity ;  and  on  it  stood  the  great  cities 
of  Sidon  and  Tyre,  the  cradles  of  the  world’s  commerce. 
Lebanon  looked  proudly  down  on  these  her  fair  daughters. 

From  the  green  meadows  of  Esdraelon  rise,  in  graceful 
undulations,  the  wooded  hills  of  Galilee.  The  hills  of  Ga¬ 
lilee  swell  up  into  the  picturesque  mountains  of  Naphtali; 
and  these  again  stretch  across  the  sublime  ravine  of  the 
13 


288 


NORTHERN  BORDER  LAND. 


Leontes  and  tower  into  the  majestic  ridge  of  Lebanon, 
Commencing  at  an  elevation  of  six  thousand  feet,  this  ridge 
increases  gradually  to  nearly  eleven  thousand,  and  then  ter¬ 
minates  abruptly  in  the  valley  called  by  Moses  the  “  en¬ 
trance  of  Hamath”  (Num.  xxxiv.  8). 

The  eastern  declivities  of  Lebanon  are  steep  and  rugged ; 
but  the  western  are  long  and  gradual,  furrowed  from  top  to 
bottom  by  wild  ravines,  and  broken  everywhere  by  white 
cliffs  and  rugged  banks,  and  tens  of  thousands  of  terraces, 
which  rise  like  stairs  from  the  sea  to  the  snow  wreaths. 
These  western  declivities  are  the  “  roots  of  Lebanon,”  mas¬ 
sive,  broad,  and  far-reaching.  One  can  see  as  he  wanders 
over  them  how  graphic  and  expressive  was  the  language  of 
Hosea :  “  I  will  be  as  the  dew  unto  Israel ;  he  shall  grow  as 
the  lily,  and  strike  forth  his  roots  as  Lebanon  ”  (xiv.  5). 

BEYROUT. 

The  classic  Berytus ,  famous  for  its  school  of  philosophy, 
and  the  modern  Bey  rout,  has  no  place  in  the  Bible.  Yet 
it  is  now  the  capital  of  Lebanon,  and  the  only  real  sea-port 
of  Syria.  Western  enterprise  has  given  it  an  air  of  pros¬ 
perity,  while  grim  desolation  is  elsewhere  brooding  over 
the  land. 

The  site  of  Beyrout  is  among  the  finest  in  the  world. 
From  the  base  of  Lebanon  a  triangular  plain  juts  into  the 
sea,  and  round  a  little  bay  on  its  northern  shore  nestles  the 
nucleus  of  the  city,  engirt  by  old  walls  and  towers.  Be¬ 
hind  the  city  the  ground  rises  with  a  gentle  slope,  and  is 
thickly  studded  with  villas  of  every  graceful  form  which 
Eastern  fancy,  grafted  on  Western  taste,  can  devise;  and 
all  embosomed  in  the  foliage  of  the  orange,  mulberry,  and 
palm.  In  spring  time  and  summer  Beyrout  is  beautiful. 
The  glory  of  Lebanon  behind,  a  mantle  of  verdure  wrapped 
closely  round  it,  fringed  by  a  pearly  strand ;  in  front  the 
boundless  sea,  bright  and  blue  as  the  heavens  that  over-arch 
it.  Such  is  Beyrout. 


RIDE  TO  THE  DOG  RIVER. 


289 


THE  DOG  RIVER  AND  ITS  MONUMENTS. 

It  was  near  noon  on  a  bright  April  day  when  I  mounted 
my  favourite  Nezik — one  of  the  prettiest  and  wildest  of 
Arab  horses — at  the  gate  of  Beyrout.  My  servants  and 
muleteers  were  already  hours  in  advance ;  and  Nezik,  as  he 
champed  the  bit  and  pawed  the  ground,  showed  his  eager¬ 
ness  to  follow. 

The  mulberry  groves  and  cactus-lined  lanes  were  soon 
passed.  For  a  moment  I  drew  up  in  the  bay  of  St.  George, 
to  take  another  look  at  the  fabled  scene  of  our  patron  saint’s 
conflict  with  the  dragon,  with  which  the  fine  old  crown 
pieces  have  made  English  eyes  so  familiar.  Then  fording 
the  sluggish  Magoras,  I  reached  the  silver  strand  that  here 
stretches  for  miles  along  the  Mediterranean.  Loosening 
the  rein  an  hour’s  gallop  brought  me  to  the  foot  of  the  fa¬ 
mous  pass  of  the  Dog  River. 

One  of  Lebanon’s  great  “  roots  ”  here  strikes  far  out,  and 
dips,  a  rocky  precipice,  into  the  bosom  of  the  deep.  Over 
the  rugged  cliff  the  Egyptian  Sesostris,  thirteen  centuries 
b.c.,  cut  a  zigzag  road.  Seven  hundred  years  later  the  road 
was  repaired  by  the  Assyrian  Sennacherib,  when  on  his 
march  to  the  fatal  plain  of  Libnah,  (2  Kings  xviii.  13,  &c.) 
Then,  after  a  still  longer  interval,  came  the  Roman  Anto- 
nine,  and  reconstructed  the  pass.  And  since  his  day  the 
Turks  and  the  French,  if  they  have  done  little  in  the  way 
of  repairs,  have  at  least  indulged  their  vanity  by  leaving  a 
record  of  their  presence. 

The  long  history  of  the  pass  is  written  upon  its  rocky  sides. 
Nine  tablets  are  there,  each  as  big  as  an  ordinary  door. 
Three  are  Egyptian,  and  six  Assyrian;  the  latter  distin¬ 
guished  by  quaint,  stiff  figures,  and  yards  of  cuneiform  let¬ 
ters.  The  Roman  tablet  is  of  more  moderate  dimensions: 
plain,  and  matter-of-fact,  like  the  men  who  made  it.  The 
Turks  have  as  many  flourishes  in  their  letters,  as  in  their 
legend ;  and  the  French,  with  characteristic  modesty,  have, 


290 


NORTHERN  BORDER  LAND. 


it  is  said,  for  their  visit  was  subsequent  to  mine,  appropriat¬ 
ed  one  of  the  Egyptian  panels. 

How  strange  to  see  in  one  spot,  at  one  glance,  inscribed 
records  extending  back  in  succession  almost  to  the  time  of 
Moses !  To  see  there,  too,  monumental  evidence  of  one  of 
the  most  remarkable  incidents  in  Bible  history — the  expe¬ 
dition  of  Sennacherib  !  The  tablets  on  this  pass  are  not  sur¬ 
passed  in  interest  or  importance  by  any  monuments  in  Syria. 

Scrambling  up  the  ancient  road,  and  round  the  edge  of  a 
dizzy  crag,  the  glen  of  ISTahr  el-Kelb  opened  suddenly  be¬ 
fore  me.  It  was  a  scene  of  singular  grandeur.  Away  in 
the  depths  beneath  dashed  the  mad  torrent  in  sheets  of  foam, 
over  its  rocky  bed.  Its  banks  fringed  with  oleander,  now 
wet  with  spray,  and  glistening  under  the  bright  sunbeams. 
Above  rose  jagged  precipices  of  white  limestone,  crowned 
far  overhead  by  a  convent  and  a  village. 

On  a  former  occasion  I  traced  the  river  to  its  source, 
through  rich  Alpine  scenery  which  gave  me  a  vivid  picture 
of  “the  glory  of  Lebanon.”  Now  my  course  was  different. 
I  followed  the  deeply  indented  shore ;  and  after  an  hour’s 
hard  ride  cooled  my  horse’s  foaming  sides  in 

THE  RIVER  ADONIS. 

A  few  days  before  my  visit  heavy  rain  had  fallen  in  Le¬ 
banon  ;  and  I  had  therefore  an  opportunity  of  seeing  Adonis 
“  run  purple  to  the  sea ;  ”  its  waters  tinged  with  the  earth 
the  swollen  torrent  tore  from  the  mountain  sides.  The 
fable  of  Yenus  and  Adonis  is  well  known.  The  Greeks 
borrowed  it  from  the  Syrians ;  and  the  bank  of  this  stream 
was  the  scene  of  the  catastrophe.  The  story  has  a  sacred 
as  well  as  a  classic  interest.  Adonis  was  probably  identi¬ 
cal  with  Tammuz ,  for  whom  Ezekiel  represents  the  infatuat¬ 
ed  Jewish  women  as  weeping  (viii.  14) ;  and  our  own  Mil- 
ton  has  thrown  around  the  heathen  fable  and  the  prophetio 
vision  all  the  charms  of  his  matchless  verse : — 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  GIBLITES. 


291 


- “  Thammuz  came  next  behind, 

Whose  annual  wound  in  Lebanon  allured 
The  Syrian  damsels  to  lament  his  fate 
In  amorous  ditties  all  a  summer’s  day ; 

While  smooth  Adonis  from  his  native  rock 
Ran  purple  to  the  sea  supposed  with  blood 
Of  Thammuz,  yearly  wounded.” 

I  rode  slowly  on,  looking  up  at  Lebanon,  as  peak  after 
peak  revealed  itself ;  and  now  out  over  the  boundless  Medi¬ 
terranean  gleaming  like  burnished  gold  beneath  the  even¬ 
ing  sun. 

GEBAL. 

I  found  my  tent  pitched  under  the  crumbling  ramparts  of 
Gebal ;  and  dismounted  at  its  door  as  the  sun  touched  the 
water. 

Jebeil ,  the  modern  name  of  this  town,  is  the  diminutive  of 
the  Hebrew  Gebal ,  which  signifies  “  mountain.”  The  city 
was  the  capital  of  the  Giblites ,  or  “  mountaineers,”  the  lead¬ 
ing  tribe  of  Lebanon  in  the  days  of  Joshua  (xiii.  5).  The 
Giblites  appear  to  have  been  an  educated  and  an  enterpris¬ 
ing  people  in  a  very  remote  age.  They  were  Solomon’s 
chief  architects  when  he  built  the  Temple;  though  unfor¬ 
tunately  our  English  version  in  1  Kings  v.  1 8,  conceals  the 
fact,  by  rendering  Giblites  “stone  squarers.”  They  were 
famous,  too,  as  ship-builders ;  for  the  ancients  of  Gebal  and 
“  the  wise  men  thereof”  were  leading  men  in  the  dock-yards 
of  Tyre  (Ezek.  xxvii.  9). 

It  is  most  interesting  to  observe  how  fully  even  inciden¬ 
tal  allusions  of  the  sacred  writers  are  confirmed  and  illus¬ 
trated  by  the  facts  of  ancient  history  and  the  results  of 
modern  research.  During  the  wars  of  Alexander  the  Great, 
the  fleet  of  Gebal,  or  Byblus  as  the  Greeks  called  it,  was  a 
formidable  power  in  the  Levant.  When,  on  the  morning 
after  my  arrival,  I  proceeded  to  explore  the  ruins,  I  was 
particularly  struck  with  the  massive  and  splendid  masonry 
of  the  ancient  citadel.  Some  of  its  stones  are  twenty  feet 
long,  and  in  their  size,  style,  and  perfection  of  finish,  they 


292 


NORTHERN  BORDER  LAND. 


closely  resemble  those  I  had  before  seen  in  the  foundations 
of  the  Temple  at  Jerusalem.  May  it  not  be  that  the  very 
same  workmen  were  employed  in  the  erection  of  both  build¬ 
ings? 

But  the  glory  of  Gebal  has  passed  away.  Its  massive 
walls  are  rent  and  shattered ;  its  harbour  is  a  ruin ;  its  navy 
is  reduced  to  some  half-dozen  fishing  boats ;  and  its  popula¬ 
tion  now  consists  of  about  six  hundred  poor  peasants. 

TRIPOLI. 

A  pleasant  ride  of  eight  hours  took  me  from  Gebal  to 
Tripoli.  My  road  lay  still  along  the  shore :  now  winding 
over  the  brow  of  a  cliff,  now  diving  down  a  break-neck  path 
into  a  dell,  now  treading  softly  the  pebbly  shore  on  which 
the  ever  restless  waves  made  solemn  melody.  Little  vil¬ 
lages,  and  convents,  and  vineyards,  and  groves  of  figs  and 
olives,  tell  of  modern  industry,  and  Lebanon’s  fruitfulness ; 
but  wide-spread  ruins,  and  shattered  battlements,  and  de¬ 
serted  harbours,  tell  still  more  impressively  of  departed 
greatness. 

Tripoli  is  a  picturesque  town  of  thirteen  thousand  inhabit¬ 
ants,  embosomed  in  gardens  and  orchards  of  orange,  apri¬ 
cot,  and  apple  trees.  Its  fruits  rival  those  of  Joppa  and 
Sidon.  The  surrounding  plain  is  a  little  paradise,  covered 
with  verdure,  and  sparkling  with  stream  and  fountain.  A 
triangular  promontory  juts  out  from  the  town  into  the  Medi¬ 
terranean,  and  on  its  northern  shore,  a  mile  and  a  half  dis¬ 
tant,  is  the  Mina  or  port  of  Tripoli.  This  promontory  was 
the  site  of  the  ancient  city — the  Tripolis ,  or  “  Triple  City  ” 
of  the  Greeks,  which,  tradition  says,  was  so  named  because 
it  was  founded  by  three  colonies  from  Tyre,  Sidon,  and 
Arvad.  I  traced  the  ruins  of  the  old  walls  along  the  neck 
of  the  promontory,  and  around  its  shores;  and  I  saw  col¬ 
umns  of  granite  and  marble,  with  heaps  of  stones  and  rub¬ 
bish,  scattered  over  its  surface.  During  the  first  Crnsade, 
Raymond  of  Toulouse  built  a  castle  inland  on  the  banks  of 


THE  GLORY  OF  LEBANON. 


293 


the  Kadisha,  for  the  protection  of  Christian  pilgrims ;  and 
around  it  the  modern  town  has  grown. 

ASCENT  OF  LEBANON. 

The  sun  had  not  yet  risen  over  Mount  Hor  (Num.  xxxiv. 
7)  when  I  set  out  for  the  Cedars.  For  nearly  two  hours  1 
rode  along  the  northern  hank  of  the  Kadisha,  where  it  cuts 
its  way  through  the  lower  spurs  of  Lebanon.  Then  the 
real  ascent  commenced.  It  was  no  child’s  play  to  climb 
that  mountain.  The  road  is  a  mere  goat  track;  now  in  a 
rocky  torrent  bed,  now  on  the  brink  of  a  fearful  ravine,  now 
over  a  slippery  crown  of  naked  limestone,  now  up  rude 
stairs  that  seem  as  if  “  let  down  from  heaven  itself.”  Many 
a  bad  and  dangerous  path  I  have  travelled  in  Syria,  but  this 
was  among  the  very  worst.  Never  before,  not  even  when 
ascending  Hermon,  had  the  mettle  and  the  steadiness  of 
Nezik  been  more  severely  tested.  I  confess,  too,  that  my 
own  nerve  was  sometimes  tried,  when  I  found  one  stirrup 
ringing  against  the  overhanging  cliff,  while  the  other  was 
suspended  over  a  fathomless  abyss.  The  pass  was  often 
such  as  that  which  Rogers  paints : — 

“  The  very  path  for  them  that  dare  defy 
Danger,  nor  shrink,  wear  what  shape  he  will ; 

That  o’er  the  caldron,  when  the  flood  boils  up, 

Hang  as  in  air.” 

But  the  scenery  was  glorious.  Villages  all  around,  cling¬ 
ing  to  the  cliffs,  or  nestling  away  down  in  deep  secluded 
dells, — convents,  like  feudal  castles,  perched  on  every  airy 
crag  and  hill  top,  —  vines  springing  from  chinks  in  the 
rock,  and  sending  their  long  branches  in  festoons  down  its 
jagged  sides, — ranges  of  figs  and  mulberries  covering  ter¬ 
races  which  the  hand  of  industry  has  formed  everywhere 
from  the  bottom  of  the  deepest  glen  to  the  summit  of  the 
highest  peak.  Little  isolated  patches,  and  narrow,  ribbon¬ 
like  strips  of  green  corn  were  there  too.  Art  and  industry, 
in  faot,  appeared  as  if  triumphing  over  nature ;  while  nature 


294 


NORTHERN  BORDER  LAND. 


itself,  iii  all  its  magnificent  ruggedness,  rejoiced  in  the  tri¬ 
umph. 

On  crowning:  each  successive  eminence  I  looked  down 
with  ever  increasing:  wonder  and  admiration  on  new  scenes 
of  mingled  richness  and  grandeur.  It  is  only  under  such  cir¬ 
cumstances,  and  after  such  experience,  one  can  thorough¬ 
ly  comprehend  the  meaning  of  the  prophet  when  he  says, 
“It  shall  blossom  abundantly,  and  rejoice  even  with  joy  and 
singing,  the  glory  of  Lebanon  shall  be  given  unto  it  ”  (Isa. 
xxxv.  2) ;  or  of  the  psalmist  when  he  utters  the  promise, 
“There  shall  be  an  handful  of  corn  in  the  earth  upon  the 
top  of  the  mountains,  the  fruit  thereof  shall  shake  like  Le¬ 
banon”  (lxxii.  16). 

I  spent  the  night  at  the  village  of  Ehden,  which  for  beau¬ 
ty  might  almost  pass  for  an  Eden.  Beneath  the  shade  of 
one  of  its  fragrant  walnuts  I  lay  the  long  afternoon  gazing 
dreamily  down  the  mountain  side,  and  away  out  over  the 
boundless  sea.  How  sweet  and  fresh  on  that  balmy  even¬ 
ing,  when  the  dew  began  to  fall,  was  “  the  smell  of  Leba¬ 
non  ” ! 

The  direct  road  from  Ehden  to  the  Cedars  contains  no¬ 
thing  of  interest,  so  I  rode  down  in  the  early  morning  to 
Kanobin,  the  most  celebrated  of  the  Maronite  convents, 
and  the  chief  residence  of  the  Patriarch.  Its  site  is  singm- 

o 

larly  romantic.  A  little  above  it  the  glen  of  the  Kadisha 
contracts  to  a  sublime  chasm,  its  rocky  walls  rising  perpen¬ 
dicularly  a  thousand  feet  on  each  side,  and  in  places  not 
leaving  room  for  a  footpath  beside  the  stream  that  foams 
along  the  bottom.  On  a  ledge  of  one  of  these  stupendous 
cliffs,  partly  natural  and  partly  artificial,  stands  Kanobin. 
Its  church  and  some  of  its  cells  are  hewn  in  the  rock ;  and 
many  a  strange  and  stirring  legend  is  told  of  the  fathers 
who  excavated  and  inhabited  them.  The  Patriarch  was 
absent,  but  I  was  kindly  and  hospitably  received  by  the 
monks.  In  going  round  their  shrines  I  could  not  suppress 
feelings  of  shame — almost  of  horror,  at  the  parody  of  Christ- 


THE  CEDARS  OF  LEBANON. 


295 


ianity  which  is  there  exhibited.  Except  in  name  the  church 
at  Kanobln  differs  little  from  the  shrines  of  Baal,  which  pro¬ 
bably  occupied  the  same1  place  in  the  days  of  the  old  Gib- 
lites. 

The  road  from  Kanobln  to  the  Cedars  passes  through 
some  of  the  grandest  and  richest  scenery  in  Lebanon.  It 
winds  up  the  glen  of  the  Kadisha,  which  gradually  expands 
into  terraced  slopes,  covered  with  vineyards,  and  the  bril¬ 
liant  foliage  of  the  mulberry.  Picturesque  cottages,  and 
the  mansions  of  hereditary  sheikhs,  here  grouped  together, 
there  scattered  singly  among  gardens  and  orchards,  stud 
the  whole  banks.  The  cultivation  is  wonderful.  Every 
little  dell  away  down  beneath  overhanging  cliffs,  every 
nook  and  corner  among  the  jagged  rocks,  every  ledge  and 
cranny  on  precipice  side,  which  the  foot  of  man  can  reach, 
or  on  which  a  basket  of  earth  can  be  deposited,  is  occupied 
with  vine,  or  mulberry,  or  patch  of  grain. 

I 

THE  CEDARS. 

At  the  head  of  Wady  Kadisha  is  a  vast  recess  in  the  cen¬ 
tral  ridge  of  Lebanon.  Round  it  in  a  semicircle  rise  the 
loftiest  peaks  of  the  range,  their  summits  glittering  with 
perpetual  snow.  The  sides  of  the  recess  are  smooth,  white, 
uniform,  and  perfectly  bare;  and  in  its  centre,  on  the  top 
of  a  limestone  knoll,  far  removed  from  all  other  foliage  and 
verdure,  stand,  in  strange  solitude,  the  Cedars  of  Lebanon, 
Seen  from  a  distance,  the  little  grove  is  but  a  speck  on  the 
mountain  side ;  and  the  first  feeling  of  the  pilgrim  who  has 
travelled  far  to  visit  it  is  that  of  bitter  disappointment. 
But  when  he  enters  all  such  feelings  vanish.  Then  the 
beautiful  fan-like  branches,  and  graceful  forms  of  the  young¬ 
er  trees,  the  colossal  trunks  of  the  patriarchs,  and  their  great 
gnarled  arms  stretching  far  out  to  embrace  their  brethren, 
and  the  deep  and  sombre  shade  amid  that  blaze  of  sunshine, 
— all  combine  to  excite  his  admiration. 

The  grove  is  scarcely  half  a  mile  in  circuit,  and  in  some 


296 


NORTHERN  BORDER  LAND. 


places  is  not  dense.  It  contains  only  about  four  hundred 
trees  of  all  sizes.  A  dozen  of  them  are  very  ancient,  one  or 
two  measuring  upwards  of  forty  feet  in  girth,  and  the  others 
not  much  less;  but  their  trunks  are  short,  and  are  much 
hacked  and  hewn  by  the  vandalism  of  travellers.  Thirty 
or  forty  others  are  of  very  respectable  dimensions — three, 
four,  and  even  five  feet  in  diameter.  The  younger  trees 
are  mostly  in  the  outskirts  of  the  groves,  and  the  patriarchs 
in  the  centre.  The  grove  would  increase  were  it  not  that 
the  seedlings  are  either  cropped  by  goats,  or  broken  by 
shepherds.  At  present  there  are  no  very  young  trees. 

This  was  my  second  visit  to  the  Cedars ;  and  the  impres¬ 
sion  made  upon  my  mind  was  even  deeper  than  before, — 
probably  in  part  owing  to  the  solitude.  My  former  visit 
was  during  the  annual  feast,  when  the  grove  was  filled  with 
noise  and  riot.  Now,  not  a  living  creature  was  there,  and 
the  snow  wreaths  still  lay  deep  around  the  sacred  trees.  I 
had  ample  time  to  examine  their  grandeur  and  beauty,  and 
to  meditate  on  their  long  and  glorious  history.  And  as  I 
looked,  I  could  not  wonder  that  the  Hebrews  regarded  them 
with  almost  religious  veneration,  and  that  their  prophets 
called  them  the  “trees  of  the  Lord”  (Ps.  civ.  16),  and  the 
place  where  they  grew  “the  garden  of  God”  (Ezek.  xxxi. 
8).  Nor  could  I  wonder  that  Hebrew  poets  selected  such 
graceful  foliage,  and  stately  forms,  and  colossal  trunks,  as 
emblems  of  pride,  and  majesty,  and  power.  “The  day  of 
the  Lord  of  hosts,”  writes  Isaiah,  “  shall  be  upon  every  one 
that  is  proud  and  lofty,  and  upon  every  one  that  is  lifted 
up,  and  he  shall  be  brought  low ;  and  upon  all  the  cedars 
of  Lebanon  that  are  high  and  lifted  up ”  (ii.  12,  13).  And 
Ezekiel  says,  “  Behold,  the  Assyrian  was  a  cedar  in  Leba¬ 
non  with  fair  branches ,  ....  and  of  an  high  stature  /  ...  . 
his  height  was  exalted  above  all  the  trees  of  the  field fi  &c. 
(xxxi.  3,  &c.) 

As  I  sat  there  alone  in  the  Cedaj*  Grove,  the  Psalmist’s 
magnificent  picture  of  a  storm  was  brought  more  vividly 


<L 


t 


A  STORM  OK  LEBANON.  297 

before  my  mind  than  ever  it  had  been  before.  A  huge 
branch  of  one  of  the  oldest  trees  had  recently  been  broken 
by  a  tempest,  and  in  its  fall  had  partly  destroyed  a  younger 
tree.  There  it  lay  before  my  eyes,  amid  the  ruin  it  had 
caused,  as  if  to  show  the  power  of  the  storm,  and  to  illus¬ 
trate  the  words  of  the  Psalmist.  I  read  the  words,  looking 
out,  as  I  read,  upon  those  “  great  waters  ”  whence  the  voice 
of  the  storm  came,  and  upon  those  mountain  sides  up  which 
it  rolled,  and  upon  those  cedars  which  it  brake : — 

“  The  voice  of  Jehovah  is  upon  the  waters  ; 

The  God  of  glory  thundereth  : 

Jehovah  is  upon  great  waters. 

The  voice  of  Jehovah  is  power ; 

The  voice  of  Jehovah  is  majesty. 

The  voice  of  Jehovah  breaketh  the  cedars, 

Jehovah  breaketh  the  cedars  of  Lebanon  ; 

He  maketh  them  skip  like  a  calf.  ” 

(Ps.  xxix.  3-6.) 

A  piece  of  the  broken  branch  I  afterwards  obtained,  and 
brought  to  this  country ;  and  I  retain  some  of  it  still  in  its 
natural  state.  Having  read  many  contradictory  accounts 
of  the  quality  and  beauty  of  cedar-wood,  I  resolved  to  put 
it  to  the  test.  I  gave  the  branch  into  the  hands  of  a  skilful 
workman,  who  made  me  an  ornamental  piece  of  furniture 
out  of  a  portion  of  it.  Pie  pronounced  the  wood  to  be  of 
the  first  quality — “  almost  as  hard  as  oak,  with  a  grain  as 
close  as  box.”  It  takes  a  high  finish,  and  the  carving  stands 
sharp  and  perfect.  In  appearance  it  does  not  differ  much 
from  pine ;  but  its  colour  is  deeper  and  richer.  It  retains 
its  fragrance  as  fresh  and  strong  as  when  first  cut.  Should 
any  of  my  readers  wish  to  see  genuine  cedar-wood  from  Le¬ 
banon,  if  they  will  favour  me  with  a  visit,  I  shall  feel  great 
pleasure  in  gratifying  them. 

THE  TEMPLES  OF  LEBANON. 

From  the  cedars  I  turned  southward,  following  a  path  I 
had  travelled  before,  and  have  described  elsewhere.  It  was 


298 


NORTHERN  BORDER  LAND. 


now  both  difficult  and  dangerous,  for  the  snow  lay  deep,  and 
the  summer  streamlets  were  converted  into  foaming  torrents. 

On  the  second  day  I  reached  the  fountain  of  the  Adonis 
at  Af  ka.  It  bursts  from  a  cave  at  the  foot  of  a  stupendous 
cliff,  and  its  foaming  waters  rush  down  into  a  wild  chasm. 
The  ruins  of  the  Temple  of  Venus,  built,  tradition  says,  on 
the  spot  where  Adonis  fell,  lie  strewn  over  a  little  mound 
by  the  cave’s  mouth,  and  some  of  the  massive  stones  and 
granite  columns  are  now  in  the  bottom  of  the  torrent  bed. 

Hence  I  rode  along  the  flank  of  Jebel  Sunnin,  which  rose 
on  my  left,  a  spotless  pyramid  of  snow.  Passing  the  upper 
sources  of  the  Rahr  el-Kelb,  and  the  chasm  spanned  by  the 
natural  bridge,  I  revisited  the  castle  and  temples  of  Fukra. 
One  temple  is  in  part  hewn  in  the  rock;  another,  simple, 
massive,  and  grand  even  in  its  desolation,  is  of  the  oldest 
type.  These  were  doubtless  shrines  of  Baal  or  Tammuz, 
built  by  the  Giblites  in  remote  ages. 

Crossing  another  sublime  glen,  which  sends  a  little  tribu¬ 
tary  to  the  Hog  River,  I  clambered  up  vine-clad  slopes  to 
the  Greek  Convent  of  Mar  Elias,  situated  on  the  summit  of 
a  cliff  commanding  a  wild  and  wide  panorama  of  mountain 
and  sea. 

After  a  short  stay  I  again  mounted  and  proceeded  to  Buk- 
feiya,  and  received  a  hospitable  welcome  in  the  palace  of 
the  Emir ,  one  of  the  hereditary  princes  of  Lebanon.  The 
site  is  charming.  One  would  never  weary  looking  down 
through  the  vista  of  the  magnificent  valley  of  the  Hog  River. 
The  gardens,  vineyards,  fig  and  olive  groves,  that  encircle 
the  houses  and  clothe  the  steep  slopes  below,  bear  noble 
testimony  to  the  fruitfulness  of  Lebanon.  The  peaks  above 
the  village  rise  so  steeply,  and  bristle  so  with  pointed  rocks, 
that  cultivation  is  impossible.  Yet  even  there  the  brilliant 
foliage  of  the  ilex,  which  springs  out  of  every  rent,  contrasts 
beautifully  with  the  white  limestone ;  while  away  along  the 
serried  top  of  the  ridge,  where  the  sandstone  crops  out,  are 
thickets  of  pines. 


RE  INS  OF  DEIR  EL-KULAH. 


299 


TEMPLE  OF  BAAL. 

Deir  el-Kulah  is  five  miles  south  of  Bukfeiya,  but  the  road 
is  so  bad  and  tortuous  that  it  took  me  nearly  as  many  hours 
to  reach  it.  The  name  signifies  “  the  convent  of  the  castle,” 
and  is  descriptive,  a  convent  having  been  built  on  the  ruins 
of  an  old  fortress.  It  stands  on  the  crest  of  a  narrow  and 
lofty  ridge,  round  whose  base  sweeps  the  wild  glen  of  the 
Magoras.  The  stream  is  fifteen  hundred  feet  below,  wind¬ 
ing  out  and  in  among  dark  foliage  like  a  thread  of  silver. 
Eastward  the  eye  wanders  up  the  valley  of  Metn  among 
villages,  and  vineyards,  and  mulberry  groves,  and  pine  for¬ 
ests,  till  it  rests  on  the  snowy  peak  of  Keniseh.  North  and 
south  extend  mountain  sides,  rich  and  rugged,  far  as  the 
eye  can  see ;  and  on  the  west  the  plain  of  Beyrout  is  at  our 
feet,  with  its  wastes  of  white  sand  on  the  one  side,  and  its 
bright  city  embowered  in  verdure  on  the  other;  while  be¬ 
yond  is  the  boundless  expanse  of  the  Mediterranean; — not 
quite  boundless,  however,  for  when  the  glow  of  sunset  man¬ 
tles  the  horizon,  the  hills  of  far-distant  Cyprus,  overtopped 
by  classic  Olympus,  rise  in  clear  outline. 

The  ruins  at  Deir  el-Kulah  include  an  ancient  village,  a 
castle  or  citadel,  and  a  temple.  The  latter  is  the  most  in¬ 
teresting.  It  is  one  hundred  and  six  feet  long,  and  fifty-four 
broad.  Its  portico  had  a  double  range  of  columns,  six  feet 
in  diameter ;  and  some  of  the  stones  in  the  walls  measure 
fourteen  feet  by  five  and  a  half.  I  saw,  as  others  had  seen 
before  me,  several  Greek  inscriptions.  They  are  short  and 
fragmentary,  but  fortunately  long  enough  to  throw  light  on 
the  origin  and  object  of  the  building.  One  contains  a  dedi¬ 
cation  to  “  Baal-markos,  Sovereign  Lord  of  Sports?''  Baal 
is  often  mentioned  in  the  Bible.  To  him  most  of  the  “  high 
places  ”  in  Palestine  were  dedicated.  Among  the  Phoeni¬ 
cians  he  was  the  chief  object  of  worship,  and  his  worship 
was  introduced  into  Israel  by  the  infamous  “  Jezebel ,  daugh¬ 
ter  of  JEth-Baal ,  king  of  the  Sidonians  ”  (1  Kings  xvi.  31). 


300 


NORTHERN  BORDER  LAND. 


Iii  the  Bible  this  deity  is  called  by  the  different  names,  Baal 
berith ,  “Lord  of  the  Covenant”  (Judges  ix.  4)  ;  Baal-zebub , 
“  Lord  of  flies  ”  (2  Kings  i.  2) ;  and  Baal-peor  (ISTum.  xxv.  1). 
So  here  we  have  a  temple  dedicated  to  Baal-markos ,  the 
“  Lord  of  Sports.”  It  was  doubtless  one  of  the  great  centres 
of  Phoenician  idolatry,  where  the  kinsfolk  and  townsfolk  of 
Jezebel  joined  in  their  lascivious  rites. 

From  time  immemorial  Lebanon  has  been  a  grand  centre 
of  superstition  and  idolatry.  Temples  crowned  almost  every 
height,  and  sanctuaries  were  consecrated  in  almost  every 
grove ;  “  On  every  high  hill,  in  all  the  tops  of  the  mountains, 
and  under  every  green  tree,  and  under  every  thick  oak,  they 
did  offer  sweet  savour  to  all  their  idols”  (Ezek.  vi.  13). 
Time  has  not  changed  it.  Professing  a  different  faith,  and 
called  by  a  different  name,  the  religious  spirit  of  its  people 
remains  the  same.  Their  convents  are  now  as  numerous  as 
their  idol  shrines  ever  were ;  and  could  the  old  Giblites  and 
Phoenicians  again  revisit  their  country,  they  would  find  it 
hard  to  distinguish  the  saints  and  angels  that  deck  the 
Christian  altars  from  the  images  of  their  own  deities. 

From  Deir  el-Kulah  I  descended  to  Beyrout,  having  thus 
traversed  nearly  the  whole  Maronite  section  of  Lebanon. 

THE  DRUSES  AND  THEIR  MOUNTAIN  HOME. 

“  Fierce,  hardy,  proud,  in  conscious  freedom  bold, 

Those  stormy  seats  the  warrior  Druses  hold ; 

From  Norman  blood  their  lofty  line  they  trace, 

Their  lion  courage  proves  their  generous  race : 

They,  only  they,  while  all  around  them  kneel 
In  sullen  homage  to  the  Thracian  steel, 

Teach  their  pale  despots’  waning  moon  to  fear 
The  patriot  terrors  of  the  mountain  spear.” 

_  ♦ 

I  have  explored  every  interesting  nook  and  corner  in 
southern  Lebanon,  the  home  of  the  Druses.  I  shall  here, 
however,  give  only  a  brief  sketch  of  one  short  tour  which 
led  me  through  the  cream  of  the  country,  and  at  the  best 
season — the  vintage. 


THE  DRUSES. 


301 


I  left  Beyrout  for  Deir  el-Kamr  on  a  sunny  afternoon, 
early  in  September.  My  only  companion  was  iny  servant, 
a  mountaineer,  who  knew  every  inch  of  the  road  as  well  as 
I  did  myself.  The  distance  is  five  hours,  and  the  path  none 
of  the  best.  The  first  hour  is  in  the  plain  wading  through 
deep  sands  under  the  shade  of  a  pine  forest,  and  then  wind¬ 
ing  among  mulberry  gardens.  There  are  more  palms  here 
than  one  is  accustomed  to  see  in  Syria  or  Palestine — not  in 
groves  like  Egypt,  but  singly  and  in  clumps  of  three  or 
four. 

The  foot  of  the  mountain  is  reached  and  the  ascent  begins 
by  a  track,  more  like  the  rocky  bed  of  a  winter  torrent,  than 
a  highway  to  the  capital  of  Lebanon.  But  as  we  mount 
the  ruggedness  is  forgotten,  and  we  are  enraptured  with  the 
variety,  the  richness,  and  the  extent  of  the  views.  We  miss 
here,  however,  the  close  and  careful  cultivation  of  the  Ma- 
ronite  district.  The  vines  are  not  so  well  trained,  and  here 
and  there  are  long  reaches  of  mountain  side,  where  the  old 
terraces  are  broken  and  the  soil  waste.  The  Druses  are 
warriors  rather  than  husbandmen.  They  delight  in  arms 
more  than  in  vineyards.  One  notices  this  as  soon  as  he 
enters  their  country.  He  reads  it  in  their  looks.  The  flash¬ 
ing  eye,  and  haughty  step,  and  calm  demeanour,  are  not  the 
characteristics  of  a  son  of  toil.  The  trim  beard,  and  spotless 
white  turban,  and  long  dagger  proclaim  the  soldier  rather 
than  the  peasant.  Still  the  Druses  are  not  wanting  in  in¬ 
dustry,  and  were  they  under  a  wise  rule  much  might  be  made 
of  them. 

The  costume  of  the  women  in  this  part  of  Lebanon,  Drus¬ 
es  and  Christians  alike,  is  strange  and  striking.  Here  one 
sees  at  every  fountain  that  most  singular  of  all  the  singu¬ 
larities  of  female  dress  or  ornament — the  tantur.  It  is  a 
tube  or  horn,  of  gold  or  silver,  from  one  to  two  feet  long, 
and  about  two  inches  in  diameter,  tapering  slightly.  To 
the  lower  end  are  fastened  a  number  of  silver  knobs  by 
Bilken  cords  a  yard  in  length.  The  horn  is  placed  erect  on 


302 


NORTHERN  BORDER  LAND. 


the  top  of  the  head,  strapped  round  the  chin,  and  balanced 
by  the  silver  knobs  which  hang  down  the  back.  Over  the 
whole  is  thrown  a  long  veil  of  white  muslin,  which  at  the 
pleasure  of  the  wearer  is  either  permitted  to  descend  in 
graceful  folds  behind,  or  is  brought  round  so  as  to  conceal 
both  face  and  figure.  Such  is  the  ordinary  costume  of  the 
matrons  of  Lebanon ;  and  whatever  may  be  said  of  its  ab¬ 
surdity,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  it  gives  a  grace  and  dig¬ 
nity  to  the  carriage  worthy  of  imitation  in  more  favoured 
lands.  The  tantur  is  the  first  requisite  of  the  bride;  for 
maidens  are  not  permitted  to  wear  it.  Its  origin  is  un¬ 
known,  and  it  is  very  questionable  whether  it  is  to  it  the 
Psalmist  alludes  (lxxv.  4). 

A  DRUSE  WEDDING. 

On  approaching  the  village  of  Ain  ’Anub  we  were  some¬ 
what  startled  by  hearing  dropping  shots,  and  seeing  troops 
of  horsemen  galloping  hither  and  thither  along  the  moun¬ 
tain  side.  We  soon  learned  that  it  was  the  wedding  of  one 
of  the  hereditary  Sheikhs ;  and  I  was  invited  to  halt  an  hour 
and  see  the  fete.  I  gladly  consented. 

The  ordinary  mode  of  procedure  on  the  wedding  day  is 
this.  Some  Druse  priests,  accompanied  by  a  few  of  the 
bridegroom’s  relatives,  go  to  the  bride’s  house,  which,  in 
this  instance,  was  in  a  neighbouring  village.  After  draw¬ 
ing  up  and  reading  the  marriage  contract,  the  bride,  in  her 
richest  attire,  and  completely  enveloped  in  a  veil  of  white 
and  gold,  is  placed  on  a  horse  covered  with  superb  housings, 
and  led  off  to  her  husband.  A  long  train  of  relatives  and 
friends,  male  and  female,  in  holiday  costume,  follow  her. 
When  they  get  within  half  a  mile  or  so  of  her  husband’s 
village,  his  friends  and  retainers — amounting  in  the  present 
case  to  several  hundreds — sally  out,  and  a  mock  combat 
ensues.  Both  parties  being  armed,  and  well  trained  in 
mountain  warfare,  the  scene  becomes  intensely  exciting. 
From  behind  rocks  and  trees,  from  the  tops  of  cliffs,  from 


THE  MASSACRE  OF  DEIR  EL-KAMR. 


303 


every  point  of  vantage,  volleys  of  musketry  —  blank  of 
course — are  poured  upon  the  advancing  troop.  The  horse¬ 
men  charge  and  retreat.  Step  by  step  the  bridegroom’s 
party  retire,  contesting  every  inch;  and  at  length  amid 
ringing  cheers,  and  shrill  cries  of  women,  and  salvos  of  mus¬ 
ketry,  the  bride  enters  the  village  in  triumph,  and  is  hurried 
away  to  the  harim.  There  she  is  left  alone,  still  enveloped 
in  her  veil,  to  await  her  husband  who  has  never  yet  seen 
her  face.  After  some  time  he  enters,  respectfully  lifts  the 
veil,  takes  one  look,  immediately  replaces  it,  and  returns  to 
his  guests.  The  revels  go  on  often  for  many  days . 

The  sun  had  long  set  ere  I  entered  Deir  el-Kamr. 

THE  MASSACRE  OF  1860. 

Deir  el-Kamr  is,  or  rather  was  seven  years  ago,  a  beauti¬ 
ful  little  town  of  seven  thousand  souls,  built  high  up  on  the 
side  of  a  wild  glen,  and  encompassed  by  terraced  vineyards 
and  orchards.  The  castle,  occupied  by  a  Turkish  garrison, 
crowns  a  cliff* ;  and  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  glen  stands 
the  beautiful  palace  of  the  Emir  Beshir,  the  former  gover¬ 
nor  of  Lebanon.  The  steep  and  richly  wooded  bank  leading 
up  to  it,  the  commanding  site,  the  vast  mass  of  picturesque 
buildings,  and  the  wooded  hill  behind,  all  remind  one  of  the 
Castle  of  Heidelberg.  For  years  the  palace  has  been  turned 
into  a  barrack ;  and  the  Turks  are  doing  there  what  they 
have  done  everywhere ; — they  are  fast  reducing  its  splendid 
courts,  and  marble  halls,  and  gilt  saloons,  to  ruin. 

Deir  el-Kamr  has  suffered  more  from  the  hereditary  strife 
of  Druse  and  Maronite  than  any  other  place  in  Lebanon. 
Being  an  exclusively  Christian  town,  in  the  centre  of  a 
Druse  district,  it  has  ever  borne  the  first  brunt  of  battle, 
and  has  repeatedly  been  burned  to  ashes.  But  the  most 
fearful  tragedy,  even  in  its  sad  history,  was  enacted  in  1860. 
At  the  commencement  of  the  outbreak  in  that  year,  the 
town  was  taken  and  plundered  by  the  Druses,  who,  after 
burning  Zahleh,  returned  to  complete  the  work  of  destruc- 


304 


NORTHERN  BORDER  LAND. 


tion.  The  unfortunate  inhabitants  resolved  to  defend  their 
lives  to  the  last,  for  they  knew  too  well  the  fate  that  await¬ 
ed  them.  The  rest  of  the  sad  tale  I  shall  give  in  the  words 
of  one  who  was  all  but  an  eye-witness.*  “The  Turkish 
governor,  who  had  four  hundred  troops  in  the  castle,  while 
at  Bteddin,  half  a  mile  off,  there  were  three  hundred  more, 
told  the  people  they  had  nothing  to  fear  if  they  would  give 
him  up  their  arms ;  and  he  insisted  on  their  doing  so.  They 
applied  for  an  escort  to  Beyrout ;  this  he  would  in  no  wise 
permit.  Their  valuables  he  made  them  place  in  the  castle, 
and  then  ordered  a  great  part  of  the  population  there.  So 
men,  women,  and  children  were  all  crowded  together  in  the 
palace,  under  his  protection,  on  the  night  of  the  20th.  On 
the  morning  of  the  21st,  the  Druses  collected  round  the 
town ;  one  of  their  leaders  came  to  the  palace  and  desired  to 
speak  with  the  governor.  A  conversation  was  carried  on  in 

a  low  voice . At  last  a  question  was  asked  to  which  the 

governor  gave  the  answer,  Hepsi ,  that  is,  {  all.’  Hereupon 
the  Druse  disappeared,  but  in  a  few  minutes  the  gate  was 
thrown  open,  and  in  rushed  the  fiends,  cutting  down  and 
slaughtering  every  male ;  the  soldiers  co-operating  !  ” 

Twelve  hundred  men  were  massacred  on  that  fatal  day  ! 

SOUTHERN  LEBANON. 

At  six  o’clock  I  was  again  in  the  saddle,  and  in  an  hour 
drew  up  upon  the  brow  of  Wady  Barfik,  four  miles  south 
of  Deir  el-Kamr,  and  one  of  the  richest  and  wildest  glens  in 
Lebanon.  High  up  on  its  southern  bank  stands  the  village 
of  Mukhtara,  and  the  palace  of  the  late  Said  Bey,  the  Chief 
of  the  Druses.  It  is  a  building  of  great  size,  occupying  a 
splendid  site ;  but  with  no  pretensions  to  architectural  beau¬ 
ty.  After  a  hurried  visit  to  the  Bey,  whom  I  had  known 
before,  and  who  now  insisted  on  sending  a  couple  of  horse¬ 
men  with  me,  I  continued  my  journey. 


*  Cyril  C.  Graham,  Esq. 


VIEW  FROM  LEBANON. 


305 


Our  path  lay  along  the  terraced  mountain  side,  often  be¬ 
neath  the  spreading  branches  of  fragrant  walnuts.  We 
looked  down  into  the  lovely  valley  of  Baruk,  and  away  over 
a  wooded  ridge  beyond  it  to  the  Mediterranean.  Village 
after  village  was  passed,  and  vineyard  after  vineyard.  Ever 
and  anon  boys  and  girls  came  rushing  out  with  bunches  of 
luscious  grapes  that  would  have  done  honour  to  the  vines  of 
Eschol,  and  prayed  the  Bey  to  accept  their  offering. 

Leaving  the  vale  of  Baruk  we  struck  up  Wady  Jezzin ;  and 
passing  a  large  village  of  that  name,  we  ascended  through  a 
bleak  and  rugged  region  to  the  southern  brow  of  Lebanon. 
The  scene  which  here  suddenly  burst  upon  our  view  was 
magnificent.  Four  thousand  feet  and  more  beneath  where 
we  stood,  was  the  deep  chasm  of  the  Leontes,  which  inter¬ 
sects  the  range,  carrying  the  waters  of  Coele-Syria  to  the 
Mediterranean.  Over  it  frowned  the  massive  battlements 
of  the  Castle  of  Shukif,  founded  by  the  Phoenicians  to  guard 
the  road  to  their  agricultural  colony  at  Laish.  On  the  east 
rose  Hermon,  its  icy  crown  gleaming  in  the  ruddy  sunshine. 
At  its  base  were  the  plains  ofljon  (1  Kings  xv.  20),  and 
Dan  (Judges  xviii.  7-10),  extending  in  green  meadows  to 
the  Waters  of  Merom  (Josh  xi.  5).  On  the  south  lay  the 
picturesque  mountain  chain  of  Naphtali,  over  which  ap¬ 
peared  on  the  horizon  the  pale  blue  hills  of  Samaria.  And 
away  on  the  right  was  the  wavy  coast  line  running  along 
from  the  shattered  battlements  of  Tyre  to  the  distant  Cape 
of  Carmel.  In  fact  the  whole  northern  division  of  Pales¬ 
tine  was  before  my  eyes,  every  feature  brought  out  in  bold 
relief  by  the  evening  sun.  It  was  one  of  those  pictures 
which  time  can  never  efface  from  memory. 

The  descent  to  the  banks  of  the  Leontes  was  long  and 
toilsome.  Crossing  the  stream  by  the  old  bridge  of  Burg- 
hos,  we  attempted  to  reach  a  small  village  near  it,  where 
we  intended  to  pass  the  night ;  but  we  lost  out  way,  and 
were  obliged  to  halt  under  a  large  oak-tree.  Tying  my 


806 


NORTHERN  BORDER  LAND. 


horse  to  a  branch,  I  wrapped  my  cloak  around  me  and  was 
soon  asleep.  My  companions  followed  my  example ;  and 
next  day  we  proceeded  to  Rasheiya,  whence  I  went  to  Da¬ 
mascus.  Thus  terminated  my  tour  in  Southern  Lebanon. 


“  This  shall  be  your  north  border.  From  the  Great  Sea  ye  shall  point  out  for  you 
Mount  Hor :  from  Mount  Hor  ye  shall  point  out  unto  the  entrance  of  Hamath ;  and 
the  goings  forth  of  the  border  shall  be  to  Zedad  :  and  the  border  shall  go  on  to  Ziphron, 
and  the  goings  out  of  it  shall  be  at  Hazar-enan  :  This  shall  be  your  north  border.” — 
Num.  xxxiv.  7-9. 


ROM  Dan  to  Beersheba  ”  was  in  olden  days  the 
popular  expression  for  “  all  Palestine.”  “  The 
throne  of  David  was  set  over  Israel  from  Dan 
even  to  Beersheba  ”  (2  Sam.  iii.  10) ;  “  The  king 
said  to  Joab,  Go  now  through  all  the  tribes  of  Israel,  from 
Dan  even  to  Beersheba,  and  number  the  people,  that  I  may 
know  the  number  of  the  people  ”  (xxiv.  2).  The  phrase  has 
become  a  world’s  proverb ;  and  yet  I  have  reason  to  believe 
that  it  is  often  misunderstood  by  Biblical  students ;  and  I 
know  that  it  formed  the  basis  of  one  of  the  grossest  blun¬ 
ders  in  Bishop  Colenso’s  unfortunate  book — that  in  which 
he  compares  the  numbers  of  the  Israelites  with  the  extent 
of  Canaan.”* 

Dan  and  Beersheba  were  the  northern  and  southern  lim¬ 
its  of  the  country  allotted  to  the  twelve  tribes  by  Joshua, 
and  actually  possessed  by  them.  Two  other  land-marks  are 
also  mentioned  by  the  sacred  historian.  “  So  Joshua  took 

all  that  land . from  the  mount  JECalaJc  that  goeth  up  to 

Seir,  even  unto  JBaal-gad  in  the  valley  of  Lebanon  under 
mount  Hermon”  (Josh.  xi.  17) ;  and  again,  “These  are  the 


*  Pentateuch,  Part  I.  p.  82. 


308 


NORTHERN  BORDER  LAND. 


kings  vjiich  Israel  smote  .  .  .  from  Baal-gad  in  the  valley  of 
Lebanon  even  unto  mount  Halak  that  goeth  up  to  Seir, 
which  Joshua  gave  unto  the  tribes  of  Israel  for  a  posses¬ 
sion”  (xii.  7).  Mount  Halak  was  in  the  parallel  of  Beer- 
sheba,  and  Baal-gad  is  identical  with  Banias,  four  miles 
east  of  Dan.  These  then  were  the  limits  of  what  we  may 
call  “  the  land  of  possession.”  “  The  land  of  promise  ”  was 
much  larger.  Its  boundaries  are  defined  in  the  words  of 
the  Lord  to  Abraham : — “  In  the  same  day  the  Lord  made  a 
covenant  with  Abraham,  saying,  Unto  thy  seed  have  I  given 
this  land,  from  the  river  of  Egypt  unto  the  great  river ,  the 
river  Euphrates  ”  (Gen.  xv.  18).  The  promise  was  renewed 
to  Israel  in  the  desert, — “I  will  set  thy  bounds  from  the 
Bed  Sea  even  unto  the  sea  of  the  Philistines,  and  from  the 
desert  (of  Sinai)  unto  the  river  ”  (Euphrates).  This  wide 
territory,  extending  from  Egypt  on  the  south  to  the  banks 
of  the  Euphrates  on  the  north,  was  promised  upon  condi¬ 
tions  ;  the  people  were  on  their  part  to  be  faithful  and  obe¬ 
dient  to  their  God, — “  If  thou  shalt  indeed  obey  his  voice, 
and  do  all  that  I  speak,  then  .  .  .  mine  angel  shall  go  before 
thee  and  bring  thee,”  &c.  (Exod.  xxiii.  22-31).  Israel  did 
not  fulfil  the  conditions,  and,  therefore,  the  whole  land  was 
not  given  to  them;  “And  the  anger  of  the  Lord  was  hot 
against  Israel,  and  he  said,  Because  that  this  people  hath 
transgressed  my  covenant  which  I  commanded  their  fathers, 
and  have  not  hearkened  unto  my  voice,  I  also  will  not 
henceforth  drive  out  from  before  them  of  the  nations  which 
Joshua  left  when  he  diedf  &c.  (Judges  ii.  20-23  ;  compare 
Josh,  xxiii.  13-16). 

These  facts  were  unknown  to  Bishop  Colenso;  or,  if 
known,  they  were  unfairly  overlooked,  and  hence  the  force 
of  one  of  his  most  telling  but  most  sophistical  objections  tc 
the  truth  of  the  Divine  Becord. 

Before  the  death  of  Moses  a  distinct  revelation  was  given 
to  him  of  the  boundaries  of  the  country  which  Israel  was  to 
occupy.  It  is  a  singular  fact  that  these  were  different  both 


ANSWER  TO  COLENSO. 


309 

from  those  in  tlie  Abrahamic  covenant,  and  those  of  “the 
land  of  possession.”  On  the  south  the  border  line  reached 
from  Kadesh  to  the  river  of  Egypt  (Num.  xxxiv.  4,  5) ; 
while  on  the  north  it  is  thus  described : — “  This  shall  be 
your  north  border ;  from  the  Great  Sea  ye  shall  point  out 
for  you  Mount  Hor ;  from  Mount  Hor  ye  shall  point  out  unto 
the  entrance  of  Hamath ;  and  the  goings  forth  of  the  border 
shall  be  to  Zedad ;  and  the  border  shall  go  on  to  Ziphron, 
and  the  goings  out  of  it  shall  be  at  Hazar-enan”  (verses 
7-9).  Dan,  as  has  been  stated,  was  the  northern  limit  of 
“the  land  of  possession.”  Hamath  is  one  hundred  and 
twenty  miles  north  of  Dan.  The  ranges  of  Lebanon  and 
Anti-Lebanon,  the  valley  of  Ccele-Syria,  and  the  plain  of 
Hamath,  lie  between  them.  This  fact  explains  Joshua  xiii. 
After  the  division  of  the  country  “  from  Dan  to  Beersheba  ” 
among  the  tribes  by  Joshua,  a  large  part  of  the  territory 
promised  to  Moses  still  remained,  and  is  minutely  described. 
The  section  lying  on  the  north  is  as  follows :  “  The  land  of 
the  Giblites,  and  all  Lebanon  toward  the  sunrising  (Anti- 
Lebanon),  from  Baal-gad  under  Mount  Hermon,  unto  the 
entering  into  Hamath ;  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  hill  country 
from  Lebanon  unto  Misrepothmaim,  and  all  the  Sidonians  ” 
(verses  5,  6). 

It  will  thus  be  seen  that  the  country  given  in  covenant 
to  Abraham  extended  from  the  river  of  Egypt  to  the  Eu¬ 
phrates  ;  that  promised  to  Moses  extended  from  the  river  of 
Egypt  to  the  entrance  of  Hamath ;  while  the  phrase  “  from 
Dan  to  Beersheba”  only  embraced  the  territory  actually 
divided  by  Joshua  among  the  tribes. 

“  A  land  of  promise  ”  is  still  in  store  for  the  ancient  peo¬ 
ple  of  God.  Ezekiel  in  prophetic  vision  gives  its  boundar¬ 
ies,  which  correspond  at  all  points  except  the  east  with 
those  of  Moses.  It  is  only  with  the  north  I  have  to  do  at* 
present ;  and  Ezekiel  defines  it  as  follows : — “  This  shall  be 
the  border  of  the  land  toward  the  north  side,  from  the  Great 
Sea,  the  way  of  Hethlon,  as  men  go  to  Zedad;  Hamath,  Be* 


310 


NORTHERN  BORDER  LAND. 


rothah,  Sibraim,  which  is  between  the  border  of  Damascus 
and  the  border  of  Hamath ;  Hazor-hatticon,  which  is  by  the 
coast  of  Hauran.  And  the  border  from  the  sea  shall  be  Ha- 
zar-enan”  (xlvii.  15-1 1). 

These  northern  marches  do  not  lie  in  the  usual  route  of 
travellers.  Comparatively  little  has  been  written  about 
them.  Yet  among  them  were  laid  the  scenes  of  some  of 
the  most  tragic  events  of  Jewish  history.  In  addition  to 
holy  and  historic  interests,  therefore,  a  visit  to  the  leading 
places  may  have  the  charm  of  novelty. 

HAMATH.  *  ' 

Hamath  is  a  quaint  old  city.  If  one  could  fancy  Pompeii 
restored  and  repeopled  with  the  men  and  women  whose 
mouldering  bones  are  now  being  dug  up  from  its  ruins,  it 
would  not  present  a  greater  contrast  to  the  modern  cities  of 
the  west  than  Hamath.  For  thirty  centuries  or  more,  life 
has  been  at  a  stand-still  there.  Everything  is  patriarchal — 
costume,  manners,  salutations,  occupations.  The  venerable 
elders,  who,  with  turbaned  heads,  flowing  beards,  and  flow¬ 
ing  robes,  sit  daily  in  the  gates,  might  pass  for  the  elders  of 
the  children  of  Heth  who  bargained  with  Abraham  in  the 
gates  of  Kirjath-arba ;  and  the  Arab  sheikhs,  who  ever  and 
anon  pass  in  and  out,  armed  with  sword  and  spear,  are  no 
unworthy  representatives  of  the  fiery  Ishmael.  There  is  no 
town  in  the  world  in  which  primeval  life  can  be  seen  in  such 
purity  as  in  Hamath.  The  people  glory  in  it.  No  greater 
insult  could  be  offered  to  them  than  to  contrast  Hamath 
with  the  cities  of  the  infidel. 

The  site  of  Hamath  is  picturesque.  It  stands  in  the  deep 
glen  of  the  Orontes,  whose  broad  rapid  stream  divides  it 
through  the  centre.  The  banks  are  lined  with  poplars,  and 
the  queer  houses  rise  like  terraces  along  the  steep  slopes. 
Four  bridges  span  the  stream,  and  connect  the  two  quarters 
of  the  city.  The  remains  of  antiquity  are  nearly  all  gone ; 
the  citadel  is  a  vast  mound  of  rubbish;  the  mosques  are 


311 


HAMATH’S  HISTORY. 

falling  to  ruin;  and  the  private  houses,  though  in  a  few 
cases  splendidly  decorated  within,  are  shapeless  piles  of  mud 
and  timber. 

But  the  great  curiosities  of  Hamath  are  its  Persian  wheels, 
numbers  of  which  are  ranged  along  the  river  side,  'turned  by 
the  current,  and  raise  water  to  supply  the  mosques,  houses, 
and  gardens.  Like  everything  else,  they  are  old  and  crazy ; 
and  as  they  turn  lazily  round  they  creak,  and  groan,  now  in 
deep  bass,  now  in  shrill  treble,  and  now  in  horrid  concert  of 
jarring  sounds.  In  the  still  summer  evening  when  the  shad¬ 
ows  fall  upon  the  river  banks,  hiding  the  rippling  water  and 
the  labouring  wheels,  and  when  silence  reigns  over  the 
streets  and  houses  of  the  old  city,  these  strange  sounds  swell 
up  from  the  gathering  gloom,  and  echo  through  the  valley, 
as  if  the  spirits  of  evil  had  broken  from  their  prison-house 
and  were  filling  the  air  with  shriek  and  wail. 

Hamath  takes  rank  among  the  oldest  cities  of  the  world, 
having  been  founded  by  the  youngest  son  of  Canaan,  some 
four  thousand  years  ago  (Gen.  x.  18).  It  was  already  the 
capital  of  a  kingdom  at  the  Exodus.  During  the  warlike 
rule  of  David  it  was  forced  to  yield  allegiance  to  Israel  (2 
Sam.  viiL  9) ;  but  at  a  later  period  Hamath  had  attained 
to  such  power  that  Amos  distinguished  it  by  the  name 
“  great  ”  (vi.  2) ;  and  the  Assyrian  monarch  spoke  of  its  con¬ 
quest  as  among  the  most  celebrated  of  his  achievements 
(2  Kings  xviii.  34).  When  the  kingdom  of  the  Seleucidae 
was  established  in  northern  Syria  the  name  Hamath  was 
changed  to  Epiphania,  in  honour  of  Antiochus  Epiphanes, 
but  on  the  overthrow  of  Greek  power  the  Greek  name  dis¬ 
appeared  ;  and  we  have  to  this  day  the  old  Hebrew  appel¬ 
lation  retained  in  its  Arabic  form  Hamah. 

Hamah  has  still  thirty  thousand  inhabitants.  It  has  for 
many  centuries  been  the  residence  of  a  remnant  of  the  old 
Mohammedan  aristocracy  —  a  race  now  distinguished  for 
poverty,  pride,  and  fanaticism.  They  are  the  determined 
enemies  of  all  change  alike  in  religion,  literature,  art,  and 
14 


312 


NORTHERN  BORDER  LAND. 


social  life.  The  age  of  Mohammed  is  their  golden  age ;  and 
the  literature  of  the  Koran  the  only  literature  worthy  of  the 
name.  Wherever  one  meets  with  or  sees  them  strutting 
through  the  dingy  streets,  sitting  in  the  gates,  or  at  their 
devotions  in  the  mosque,  he  is  immediately  reminded  of  the 
Pharisee’s  prayer,  “  God,  I  thank  thee  that  I  am  not  as 
other  men  are.” 

I  once  met  a  distinguished  member  of  this  proud  race  at 
the  house  of  a  learned  and  liberal  Moslem  friend  in  Damas¬ 
cus.  The  conversation  turned  on  the  progress  of  art  and 
science  in  Western  Europe.  Railways,  steam-engines,  print¬ 
ing-presses,  the  electric  telegraph,  and  many  other  triumphs 
of  modern  discovery,  were  spoken  of.  He  listened  with  per¬ 
fect  calmness  and  indifference ;  and  as  he  haughtily  stroked 
his  beard  he  now  and  again  muttered  a  few  words,  among 
which  I  could  detect  the  not  very  complimentary  kaferin 
(“infidels”).  A  beautiful  copy  of  the  Koran,  a  gem  of  the 
Leipzig  press,  was  put  into  his  hand.  He  opened  it.  “  It  is 
printed,”  he  exclaimed,  throwing  it  from  him  and  wiping  his 
fingers  as  if  the  very  touch  was  pollution. 

I  drew  his  attention  to  the  comparative  state  of  England 
and  the  East,  both  in  ancient  and  modern  times.  I  showed 
him  that  there  must  be  something  wrong  in  the  latter — 
some  grievous  defect  in  its  government,  and  in  its  faith — 
when  such  a  fatal  check  was  put  upon  the  advance  of  art 
and  civilization.  His  reply  was  singularly  characteristic  of 
the  state  of  feeling  among  all  orthodox  Mohammedans.  It 
explains  also,  as  I  believe,  the  true  source  of  Turkish  mis¬ 
rule,  “The  Franks,”  said  he,  “possess  the  wisdom  and  the 
power  of  janns  (evil  spirits) ;  but  Allah  has  reserved  for  us 
alone  the  true  religion.  Lillah  el-mejd ,  glory  be  to  God !  ” 

THE  LAND  OF  HAMATH. 

Emerging  from  the  glen,  in  which  the  citj  stands,  we  find 
ourselves  in  an  open  undulating  plain,  bleak  and  bare.  A 
patch  of  grain  here,  a  shepherd  and  his  flock  yonder,  and 


AN  ARAB  RAID. 


010 
oLo 

a  party  of  Arab  horsemen  hovering  on  the  horizon,  are  the 
only  objects  that  break  the  monotony  of  the  dreary  ride 
across  it.  The  little  excitement  of  danger  one  almost  feels 
to  be  a  relief  here.  Shade  there  is  none,  and  green  grass, 
except  it  happen  to  be  the  spring  season,  is  nowhere  seen. 
The  Orontes  is  hid  in  its  deep  bed  some  miles  to  the  east¬ 
ward. 

Three  hours  sharp  riding  along  the  line  of  an  old  Roman 
highway  brings  us  again  to  the  brow  of  a  ravine,  and  look¬ 
ing  down  the  steep,  rugged  bank,  we  see  the  yellow  river 
shooting  along  far  below,  between  rows  of  willows  that 
stoop  to  kiss  its  murmuring  waters.  A  bridge  of  ten  arches, 
and  bearing  the  marks  of  Roman,  Saracen,  and  Turkish  ar¬ 
chitects,  spans  the  channel.  Crossing  it  and  clambering  up 
the  southern  bank,  we  stand  amid  the  ruins  of  Arethusa,  an 
ancient  episcopal  city.  Traces  of  walls,  and  gates,  and 
streets,  and  churches,  and  fields  surrounding  them  are  here, 
all  now  ruined  and  forsaken. 

After  wandering  for  a  time  among  the  ruins  I  discovered 
a  poor  gipsy  crouching  in  terror  beneath  a  shattered  wall. 
He  was  the  only  living  being  in  Arethusa,  and  his  tale  was 
sad  enough.  The  day  before  he  was  rich  and  happy,  the 
head  of  a  numerous  family  and  of  an  attached  tribe.  Now 
he  was  alone,  and  a  beggar.  The  tents  of  his  people  had 
been  pitched  on  the  banks  of  the  Orontes ;  their  camels  and 
goats  were  feeding  on  the  plain.  A  troop  of  Anezeh  came 
suddenly  upon  them  and  swept  them  all  away,  camels, 
goats,  tents,  women,  children.  He  with  his  two  sons  es¬ 
caped  by  plunging  into  the  river  and  swimming  across. 
His  sons  were  on  the  track  of  the  plunderers,  and  he  was 
lurking  here  in  the  hope  of  being  able  during  the  night  to 
effect  the  release  of  his  family,  and  perhaps  also  to  recover 
his  flocks  or  a  sufficient  equivalent.  Property  is  as  insecure 
still  on  the  borders  of  the  Arabian  desert  as  it  was  in  the 
days  of  Job  (Job  i.  14,  15). 

About  three  miles  east  of  Arethusa  is  the  little  village  of 


314 


NORTHERN  BORDER  LAND. 


Zifrun,  probably  identical  with  Ziphron ,  which  Moses  men¬ 
tions  as  one  of  the  border  cities  of  “  the  promised  land  ” 
(Num.  xxxiv.  9). 

I  was  anxious  to  visit  the  village,  so  as  to  make  a  full 
survey  of  the  northern  “marches;”  but  the  Anezeh  were 
reported  to  be  encamped  near  it,  and  the  whole  plain  was 
scoured  by  their  horsemen.  My  servants  and  guide  refused 
to  accompany  me.  They  even  refused  to  travel  to  Hums 
by  the  east  bank  of  the  river,  for  they  said  the  Arabs  would 
see  and  plunder  us.  There  is  a  path  along  the  west  bank, 
but  it  is  very  long  and  very  bad,  and  I  determined  not  to 
take  it  whatever  might  happen.  Seeing  that  arguments 
were  vain,  and  that  the  sun  was  getting  low,  I  spurred  my 
horse  and  dashed  away  along  the  direct  route.  My  servants 
reluctantly  followed.  We  met  only  two  Anezeh  cavaliers, 
and  they  thought  it  prudent  to  let  us  pass.  The  muezzin 
was  calling  the  “  faithful  ”  to  evening  prayers  when  we  en¬ 
tered  the  gate  of  Emesa. 

EMESA. 

The  Arab  Hums ,  and  Roman  Emesa ,  has  little  of  histor¬ 
ical  or  antiquarian  interest  to  attract  the  traveller.  It  is  a 
clean,  compact,  bustling  town  of  twenty  thousand  inhabit¬ 
ants,  surrounded  by  old  walls  barely  sufficient  to  repel  a 
sudden  foray  of  Bedawin.  It  was  celebrated  in  classic 
times  for  a  magnificent  temple  dedicated  to  the  Syrian  sun- 
god,  whose  priests  were  princes  of  the  land.  One  of  them 
became  Roman  emperor,  and  is  usually  called  by  the  name 
of  his  deity,  Elagabalus.  Emesa  was  unknown  in  history 
before  the  days  of  Strabo ;  but  it  is  just  possible  that  it  may 
be  identical  with  the  Biblical  Zobah ,  which  was  situated 
between  Hamath  and  Damascus  (1  Kings  xi.  23 ;  1  Chron. 
xviii.  3),  and  which  King  David  conquered  when  endeav¬ 
ouring  to  gain  for  Israel  the  whole  land  embraced  in  the 
Abrahamic  covenant.  Such  I  take  to  be  the  meaning  of  2 
Sam.  viii.  3 ;  “  David  smote  also  Hadadezer,  son  of  Rehob, 


THE  ENTRANCE  OF  HAMATH. 


315 


king  of  Zobah,  as  he  went  to  recover  his  border  at  the  river 
Euphrates  ”  (compare  Gen.  xv.  10). 

Not  a  vestige  of  Roman  Emesa  is  now  visible  except  a 
few  marble  and  granite  columns  scattered  about  the  streets, 
and  built  up  in  the  modern  walls.  The  mound  on  which 
the  citadel,  and  probably  also  the  temple,  once  stood,  is  like 
an  immense  rubbish  heap,  and  reminds  one  of  the  mounds  of 
Nineveh  and  Babylon.  Like  them  it  might  richly  repay 
the  labour  of  excavation.  There  are  many  other  similar 
mounds  on  the  neighbouring  plain.  This  measures  a  quar¬ 
ter  of  a  mile  in  circuit  and  upwards  of  a  hundred  feet  in 
height.  From  its  summit  I  got  a  most  commanding  view 
of  the  “  land  of  Hamath.”  It  is  a  vast  plain,  stretching  on 
the  east  and  north  to  the  horizon,  and  shut  in  on  the  south 
and  west  by  mountain  ridges.  It  embraces  a  circuit  not 
less  than  fifty  miles  in  diameter ;  and  through  it  from  north 
to  south  winds  the  Orontes.  A  short  distance  west  of 
Emesa  is  Bahr  Kades,  a  lake  eight  miles  long,  partly,  if  not 
entirely,  artificial,  formed  by  a  great  dam  drawn  across  the 
bed  of  the  river.  The  water  thus  raised  is  conducted  by 
canals  to  the  gardens  and  orchards  of  the  town. 

What  a  noble  plain  must  this  have  been  in  the  days  of 
Syria’s  prosperity!  Teeming  with  an  industrious  popula¬ 
tion  ;  studded  with  towns  and  villages  whose  sites  are  now 
marked  by  shapeless  mounds.  A  rich  soil,  abundant  water, 
a  genial  clime ; — “  all  the  gifts  that  heaven  and  earth  im¬ 
part”  are  here.  But  they  are  all  wasted.  The  land  of 
Hamath  is  desolate ;  the  cities  of  Zobah  are  forsaken. 

aTHE  ENTRANCE  OF  HAMATH.” 

Standing  on  the  top  of  the  ruined  citadel,  I  saw  on  the 
western  side  of  the  plain  a  great  opening  or  pass  through 
the  mountains.  On  its  southern  side  the  ridge  of  Lebanon 
rises  abruptly  to  a  height  of  ten  thousand  feet ;  and  on  its 
northern,  the  lower  ridge  of  Bargylus  terminates  in  a  bluff1 
promontory.  Between  the  two  lies  the  only  opening  from 


316 


NORTHERN  BORDER  LAND. 


the  land  of  Hamath  to  the  coast  of  the  Mediterranean. 
This  is  unquestionably  “the  entrance  of  Hamath,”  men¬ 
tioned  repeatedly  by  the  sacred  writers  as  one  of  the  land¬ 
marks  on  the  northern  border.  “  This,”  said  Moses,  “  shall 
be  your  north  border.  From  the  great  sea  ye  shall  point 
out  for  you  Mount  Hor.  From  Mount  Hor  ye  shall  point 
out  your  border  unto  the  entrance  of  Hamath  ”  (Num. 
xxxiv.  7,  8). 

Afterwards,  both  went  sailing  along  the  Syrian  coast,  and 
when  standing  on  the  plain  of  Phoenicia,  I  saw,  with  still 
more  distinctness,  this  remarkable  pass.  I  saw  then  how 
graphic  was  the  description  of  Moses.  He  states  that  the 
western  border  of  the  land  was  “  the  great  sea.”  Then  he 
adds,  “From  the  great  sea  (the  Mediterranean)  ye  shall 
point  out  for  you  Mount  Hor .”  The  Hebrew  is  Hor-ha - 
har ,  “  the  mountain  of  the  mountain ;  ”  that  is,  emphatically, 
“the  great  mountain.”  It  was  there  before  me — the  majes¬ 
tic  northern  peak  of  Lebanon,  the  loftiest  mountain  in  Syria ; 
its  glittering  crown  encircled  by  a  halo  of  silvery  clouds. 

“  From  Mount  Hor  ye  shall  point  out  your  border  unto 
the  entrance  of  Hamath ,”  that  is,  “  the  entrance  ”  from  the 
great  sea.  There  is  but  one,  and  it  cannot  be  mistaken. 
That  pass  between  Lebanon  and  Bargylus  is  the  only  open¬ 
ing  from  the  coast  into  the  land  of  Hamath.  I  have  been 
told  that  to  this  day  it  is  called  by  the  people  of  Tripoly 
Fab  Hamah ,  “  the  door  of  Hamath.” 

From  “  the  entrance  ”  the  border  line  was  drawn  north¬ 
east  toward  the  city  of  Hamath ;  then  south-east  by  Ziphron, 
Zedad,  and  Hazar-enan  (Num.  xxxiv.  8,  9).  Ziphron  Tve 
have  already  seen  in  the  distance ;  and  we  shall  now  visit 
the  other  two. 


A  NIGHT  MARCH  TO  ZEDAD. 

During  one  of  my  visits  to  Emesa  I  met  with  a  Jacobite 
priest  from  the  “  desert  village  ”  of  Sudud,  the  ancient  Ze¬ 
dad.  I  felt  a  deep  interest  in  him  and  his  flock.  The  Su- 


THE  JACOBITES  OF  SUDUD. 


317 


dudtyeh  are  all  members  of  the  Jacobite  Church,  and  com 
stitute  the  only  remnant  of  that  ancient  sect  in  Syria.  They 
are  poor  and  oppressed,  but  industrious  and  brave.  In 
their  desert  home  they  live  in  comparative  comfort,  notwith¬ 
standing  the  tyranny  of  the  Turks,  the  exactions  of  the  Be- 
dawin,  and  what  is  sometimes  more  severely  felt  than  either, 
the  unceasing  enmity  of  the  whole  body  of  their  fellow- 
Christians.  It  is  unfortunately  the  case  that  the  various 
Christian  sects  in  Syria  hate  each  other  with  a  bitter  hatred, 
and  often  use  their  influence  with  Turkish  rulers  to  oppress 
and  spoil  their  brethren.  The  Jacobites  of  Sudud  had  suf¬ 
fered  much  in  this  way ;  and  it  had  been  my  good  fortune 
to  secure  for  them  relief  from  cruel  wrong.  They  were  now 
profuse  in  their  expressions  of  gratitude.  In  the  name  of 
his  people  the  priest  gave  me  a  pressing  invitation  to  Su¬ 
dud,  and  I  gladly  accepted  it. 

Zedad  lies  eight  hours  south-east  of  Emesa,  across  an 
open,  desolate  plain.  We  left  the  city  a  little  before  sunset, 
on  a  beautiful  evening  in  autumn.  The  air  was  fresh  and 
balmy;  but  after  five  long  months  of  cloudless  sky  and 
burning  sunshine,  no  wonder  “  the  heaven  seemed  as  brass 
and  the  earth  as  iron.”  I  found  my  friend  the  priest  and 
some  ten  or  twelve  of  his  people,  mounted  on  mules  and 
donkeys,  waiting  for  us  outside  the  gate.  I  was  struck  with 
the  venerable  and  even  noble  appearance  of  the  old  man ; 
and  I  thought  he  might  be  regarded  as  no  unworthy  re¬ 
presentative,  so  far  at  least  as  outward  aspect  was  con¬ 
cerned,  of  the  Syrian  episcopoi  in  primitive  times.  His  eye 
was  bright,  his  cheek  bronzed,  and  his  flowing  beard  white 
as  the  snow-drift.  He  wore  a  black,  high-crowned,  circular 
cap ;  a  close  under  garment  of  crimson  satin,  bound  round 
the  waist  by  a  girdle ;  and  over  all  was  thrown  a  long  loose 
robe  of  black  serge.  He  rode  a  stout  mule,  whose  well- 
padded  saddle  and  housings  were  ornamented  with  numer¬ 
ous  red  and  black  tassels,  cowries,  and  silver  charms. 

A  ride  of  an  hour  and  a  half  brought  us  to  Meskineh,  a 


318 


NORTHERN  BORDER  LAND. 


little  hamlet  occupied  by  a  colony  from  Sudud,  and  forming 
one  of  the  outposts  of  habitation  on  the  plain  of  Emesa. 
Here  we  halted  to  await  the  formation  of  the  caravan  and 
the  light  of  the  moon.  The  road  from  Emesa  to  Sudud  is 
very  dangerous  during  the  autumn.  The  Anezeh  and  Be- 
ni-Shemal  are  then  encamped  around  the  fountains  of  Ku- 
ryetein  and  Salemiyeh,  away  to  the  eastward ;  and  their 
horsemen  scour  the  plain  up  to  the  very  gates  of  the  city, 
stripping  stray  travellers,  plundering  caravans,  and  driving 
olf  flocks  and  herds.  The  priest  told  me  that  they  have 
spies  in  Emesa,  and  mounted  scouts  along  the  leading  roads, 
who  give  due  notice  to  the  tribe  of  every  favourable  op¬ 
portunity  for  plunder.  The  poor  villagers  suffer  severely. 
Their  convoys  of  grain  are  closely  watched,  and  not  unfre- 
quently  the  hard-earned  gatherings  of  a  whole  year  are 
carried  off  in  one  raid. 

“And  does  not  the  government  protect  you?”  I  asked. 

“  The  government !”  he  exclaimed  with  surprise ;  “  the 
government  does  nothing  but  collect  its  taxes  !” 

How  true  was  the  picture  which  the  old  prophets  drew  of 
Syria’s  future  !  “  The  spoilers  are  come  upon  all  high  places 
through  the  wilderness :  for  the  sword  of  the  Lord  shall  de- 
your  from  the  one  end  of  the  land  even  to  the  other  end  of 
the  land :  no  flesh  shall  have  peace.  They  have  sown  wheat, 
but  shall  reap  thorns;  they  have  put  themselves  to  pain, 
but  shall  not  profit ;  and  they  shall  be  ashamed  of  your  re¬ 
venues,  because  of  the  fierce  anger  of  the  Lord”  (Jer.  xii. 
12,  13).  “They  shall  eat  their  bread  with  carefulness,  and 
drink  their  water  with  astonishment,  that  her  land  may  be 
desolate  from  all  that  is  therein,  because  of  the  violence  of 
all  them  that  dwell  therein  ”  (Ezek.  xii.  19). 

When  the  moon  rose  the  order  was  given  to  march.  The 
caravan  was  much  larger  than  I  expected.  There  were 
about  sixty  Sududiyeh,  all  armed  with  guns,  besides  a  do¬ 
zen  or  two  of  traders  from  Emesa  and  Hamath ;  and  the 
animals — camels,  mules,  and  donkeys — may  probably  have 


A  NIGHT  MARCH  IN  THE  DESERT. 


319 


numbered  two  hundred.  The  priest,  and  the  sheikh  of  Su- 
dud  who  rode  a  good  horse,  took  the  lead,  and  asked  me  to 
join  them,  after  giving  strict  orders  to  all  strangers,  as  they 
valued  their  safety,  not  to  leave  the  main  body  for  a  single 
instant,  and  not  to  speak  above  a  whisper. 

On  we  sped.  Our  pace  was  somewhat  slow,  but  steady. 
Not  a  voice  was  heard,  and  the  only  sound  the  ear  could 
detect  was  the  dull  muffled  tread  of  men  and  animals  on  the 
dusty  soil.  The  pale  moon  shed  her  silvery  light  on  the 
grey  plain,  half  revealing,  half  concealing ;  and  the  long 
compact  body  of  men  and  animals,  stealing  noiselessly  over 
the  bleak  waste,  had  a  strange  spectral  look  that  almost 
alarmed  one. 

The  country  was  at  first  perfectly  flat ;  but  after  travel¬ 
ling  some  hours  it  became  more  and  more  undulating,  and 
broken  by  wadys  and  dry  torrent  beds.  Into  one  of  these 
we  descended,  and  marched  for  a  mile  or  more.  I  saw  that 
the  sheikh  was  now  all  anxiety  and  watchfulness ;  and  that 
my  reverend  friend,  who  for  a  time  had  been  nodding  on 
his  careful  mule,  roused  himself  and  addressed  a  few  words 
to  the  chief.  I  concluded  that  this  was  a  dangerous  part  of 
the  road,  and  my  thoughts  were  soon  rather  unpleasantly 
realized. 

The  sheikh  after  the  words  of  the  priest  trotted  ahead, 
and  was  soon  out  of  sight.  We  went  on  as  before;  but,  as 
I  thought,  somewhat  slower.  The  sheikh  had  not  been  ab¬ 
sent  more  than  fifteen  minutes  when  he  came  back  at  a 
canter,  and,  pushing  on  to  the  very  centre  of  the  caravan, 
cried  in  a  deep  earnest  whisper,  “  Hauwelu  !  ”  (halt).  The 
caravan  stopped  in  a  moment.  So  still  and  statue-like  did 
the  whole  become,  that  one  could  have  imagined  his  voice 
had  turned  them  to  stone.  A  moment  more  and  I  saw  that 
every  gun  was  unslung,  and  that  the  leading  men  gathered 
round  their  chief.  Galloping  up  to  the  group,  I  demanded 
what  was  wrong.  u Arabs”  was  the  reply,  and  it  was 
enough  to  explain  alL 


320 


NORTHERN  BORDER  LAND. 


The  sheikh,  who  was  well  mounted,  unslung  his  rifle,  ex¬ 
amined  the  priming  of  his  pistols,  and  told  his  people  to  re¬ 
main  steady  and  quiet  while  he  went  forward  to  reconnoi¬ 
tre.  I  joined  him.  After  riding  a  quarter  of  a  mile  or  so 
we  came  to  a  sharp  turn  in  the  valley,  where  it  appeared  to 
open  into  an  undulating  plateau.  Here  we  stopped,  and  my 
companion,  touching  my  arm,  pointed  to  a  rising  ground  in 
the  distance  on  the  left,  and  said,  “  Shuf.” 

“Those  are  trees,”  I  said;  but  that  instant  my  horse, 
with  the  true  instinct  of  his  race,  pricked  up  his  ears,  raised 
his  head,  and  gave  a  low  angry  snort. 

“  They  must  be  Arabs,  and  mounted,”  I  now  added. 

“  Your  horse  tells  you  that.” 

“  Can  we  not  get  nearer  them  ?”  I  asked. 

“  No.  If  we  advance  a  yard  beyond  this  rock  their  sharp 
eyes  will  detect  us.  The  Arab  has  the  eye  of  the  eagle 
when  on  a  foray.” 

I  had  fortunately  my  double  field  glass  slung  at  my  side. 
Taking  it  out  and  turning  it  on  the  party  I  saw  them  dis¬ 
tinctly,  and,  greatly  to  the  surprise  of  my  companion,  told 
him  their  numbers  and  equipments  in  a  moment. 

“There  are  seven  horsemen  armed  with  spears.  They 
are  advancing  slowly  this  way  in  line. 

“  Are  there  only  seven  ?  Can  you  make  out  no  more  ?” 
were  the  eager  questions  of  my  companion. 

“  None ;  not  another  man,”  I  replied,  as  I  examined  them 
closely  again  with  the  glass.  “  But  stay — what  is  yon  on 
the  crest  of  that  rising  ground  away  further  to  the  right  ? 
More  Arabs,  as  I  live  !  A  large  body — some  on  horseback, 
some  on  dromedaries.  I  see  their  spears  glittering  in  the 
moonlight.” 

“  What’s  their  number  ?”  demanded  the  sheikh. 

“Forty  at  least;  and  each  dromedary  carries  two..  I  see 
their  outline  distinctly  against  the  clear  sky.” 

“  It  is  a  ghuzu  of  the  Beni-Shemal,”  said  the  sheikh,  sadly 
and  bitterly.  “  God  help  my  poor  people ;  we  are  all  lost  1” 


ADVENTURE  WITH  ARABS. 


321 


“May  we  not  escape  yet?”  I  replied.  “See,  the  main 
body  is  going  southward,  and  must  cross  the  valley  at 
least  half  a  mile  ahead.  If  your  people  keep  quiet  they 
cannot  he  seen  in  the  valley.” 

“  True.  But  these — look  at  these,”  the  sheikh  said,  point¬ 
ing  to  the  Arabs  we  had  first  seen,  and  who  still  continued 
slowly  to  advance,  “  will  not  they  discover  us  ?” 

I  turned  my  glass  upon  them,  and  then  said :  “  They  are 
coming  down  straight  upon  us.  Come  in  closer  or  they 
will  see  you,  for  they  are  evidently  keeping  a  sharp  look 
out.” 

At  the  place  where  we  stood  a  jagged  limestone  rock, 
some  eight  or  ten  feet  high,  projected  from  the  northern 
bank.  The  side  next  to  us  was  deeply  excavated,  and 
formed  a  kind  of  natural  cave.  Round  it  the  valley  turned 
at  a  sharp  angle.  We  were  thus  completely  hidden  from 
all  in  front,  while  about  a  hundred  yards  behind  us  was  an¬ 
other  bluff,  and  a  slight  curve  in  the  glen,  serving  in  a  great 
measure  to  conceal  the  caravan  even  from  us.  The  dano;er 
that  threatened,  and  the  critical  nature  of  our  position,  made 
me  examine  minutely  every  feature  of  the  glen.  I  now  saw 
that  from  the  main  body  we  had  nothing  to  fear ;  and  should 
the  others  pass  in  front  of  the  rock  we  had  every  chance  to 
escape  their  notice  also ;  but  should  they  come  round  it 
nothing  could  save  us. 

“  Go  you  back  to  your  people,”  I  said  to  my  companion, 
“  keep  them  close  and  perfectly  still.  I  shall  remain  here  to 
watch  the  Arabs.  If  they  pass  this  rock,  or  in  any  other 
way  discover  the  caravan,  you  may  rely  on  me  either  to  be 
with  you  or  give  you  due  warning.  Meantime,  have  your 
men  prepared :  and  should  the  worst  come  you  have  sixty 
muskets.” 

He  was  off  in  an  instant.  I  then  dismounted,  and  drew 
my  horse  close  in  under  the  projecting  ledge.  Through  a 
rent  I  had  command  of  the  advancing  party  and  the  whole 
plateau.  The  Arabs  came  straight  towards  me.  Already 


322 


NORTHERN  BORDER  LAND. 


I  could  hear  their  voices.  They  were  splendidly  mounted. 
When  about  to  descend  into  the  glen  they  turned  to  the 
left  to  avoid  the  steep  bank  and  some  broken  ledges.  “We 
are  safe !”  I  inwardly  exclaimed.  The  nearest  of  them  was 
not  more  than  twenty  yards  distant,  and  just  as  he  reached 
the  bottom  his  horse  suddenly  started  and  neighed.  My 
horse  was  about  to  reply,  when  by  a  check  of  the  bridle  I 
silenced  him ;  and  the  wise  creature  seemed  to  know  my 
danger.  The  whole  party  halted.  “What’s  here?”  they 
cried,  and  they  looked  all  round.  The  man  next  me  wheeled 
round  and  advanced.  It  was  an  anxious  and  a  critical  mo¬ 
ment.  The  lives  of  many  seemed  now  to  hang  upon  a 
thread.  The  Arab  was  on  one  side  of  the  rock,  and  I  on 
the  other.  I  saw  the  point  of  his  long  tufted  spear  a  few 
feet  above  me ;  but  I  could  not  see  the  man,  as  I  dared  not 
raise  my  head.  Should  he  move  forward  another  yard,  or 
should  my  horse  make  the  slightest  motion,  we  were  lost. 
With  my  foot  in  the  stirrup,  and  my  hand  on  the  horse’s 
neck,  I  stood  like  a  statue,  prepared,  should  he  pass  the 
rock,  to  make  a  bold  dash  forward,  which  I  knew  would 
drive  him  back  to  his  companions.  I  can  never  forget  that 
moment  of  suspense.  It  was  soon  over.  I  heard  a  call 
from  his  companions,  then  the  ling  of  his  horse’s  feet  on  the 
stones  in  the  dry  torrent  bed.  I  put  up  my  head  again,  and 
saw  the  whole  party  ascend  the  south  bank,  and  in  five 
minutes  they  were  out  of  sight.  I  mounted  and  followed 
cautiously,  and  had  the  intense  satisfaction  of  seeing  them 
and  their  friends  ride  off  at  a  quickened  pace  away  across 
the  desert. 

After  half  an  hour’s  halt  the  caravan  again  started,  and 
we  reached  Sudud  just  as  the  first  dawn  of  morning  ap¬ 
peared  in  the  east.  So  ended  my  night  march.  I  have 
described  it  here  for  a  twofold  purpose : — to  serve  as  an  il¬ 
lustration  of  modern  life  on  the  borders  of  the  Syiian  de¬ 
sert;  and  to  show  how  true  was  the  Bible  picture  of  the 
Ishmaelite,  “His  hand  will  be  against  every  man;”  and 


ZEDAD  AND  HAZAR-ENAN. 


323 


how  true  the  predictions  of  the  disturbed  state  of  Palestine, 
“  No  flesh  shall  have  peace.” 

ZEDAD. 

Sudud  is  still  a  large  village ;  though  it  does  not  contain  a 
single  vestige  of  antiquity  except  a  few  fragments  of  col¬ 
umns  built  up  in  the  mud  walls  of  the  modern  houses.  It 
is  surrounded  by  gardens  and  cultivated  fields,  irrigated  by 
a  stream  from  one  of  those  strange  subterranean  aqueducts, 
which  one  sees  so  frequently  on  the  plain  of  Damascus. 
The  people  are  all  Christians ;  and  though  their  ecclesias- 
tical  language  is  Syriac,  they  speak  and  understand  Arabic 
alone.  The  priests  showed  me  some  old  Syriac  manuscripts, 
one  or  two  of  which  were  on  vellum ;  but  they  were  poorly 
written,  and  of  no  literary  value. 

The  name  of  Zedad  has  not  been  once  mentioned  in  his¬ 
tory  since  that  time  when  Moses  defined  so  minutely  the 
northern  border  of  Palestine.  How  strange  to  find  the  city 
still  here,  after  an  interval  of  more  than  three  thousand 
years,  with  its  name  little  changed ! 

HAZAR-ENAN. 

“The  goings  out  of  it  (the  border)  shall  be  at  Hazar - 
enan .”  This  Hazar-enan,  or,  as  the  word  signifies,  “Vil¬ 
lage  of  Fountains,”  stood,  therefore,  at  the  north-west  cor¬ 
ner  of  the  promised  land ;  and  consequently  east  or  south¬ 
east  of  Sudud.  Three  hours  south-east  of  Sudud  is  Hct- 
warin ,  a  small  village  with  some  ancient  ruins.  The  name 
might  possibly  be  a  corruption  of  Hazar-enan ;  but  there  is 
no  fountain  there,  as  I  am  told,  for  I  did  not  visit  it,  and 
this  fact  appears  fatal  to  the  identity. 

In  my  way  back  from  Palmyra  to  Damascus  I  arrived  on 
the  evening  of  the  second  day  at  the  large  village  of  Kury~ 
etein ,  which  stands  in  the  centre  of  that  long  valley  de¬ 
scribed  below  as  running  westward  from  the  desert  city. 
It  is  twenty-two  hours  march  from  Palmyra,  about  the 


324 


NORTHERN  BORDER  LAND. 


same  from  Damascus,  and  six  south-east  from  Sudud.  Here 
are  copious  fountains, — the  only  ones  of  any  note  in  the 
whole  of  that  vast  arid  region.  The  Hebrew  word  Hazar- 
enan  signifies,  as  I  have  said,  “  Village  of  F ountains ;  ”  and 
the  Arabic  word  Kuryetein ,  “two  villages.”  The  ruins 
scattered  among  the  lanes  and  gardens  show  that  Kurye¬ 
tein  was  once  a  place  of  importance ;  and  the  name,  in  con¬ 
junction  with  the  old  massive  church,  enables  us  to  identify 
it  with  the  Greek  episcopal  city  of  Koradea. 

Ever  since  my  visit  I  have  been  convinced  that  this  is  the 
long-lost  Hazar-enan  mentioned  by  Moses  as  the  north-east¬ 
ern  landmark  of  Israel  (Hum.  xxxiv.  9) ;  and  by  Ezekiel  as 
lying  between  the  borders  of  Hamath  and  Damascus  (xlvii. 
IV  ;  xlviii.  1).  If  this  be  so,  the  northern  border  line  is  now 
fully  ascertained. 

Ezekiel’s  border  is  so  far  identical  with  that  of  Moses,  but 
from  this  point  it  varies ;  Ezekiel  includes  the  kingdom  of 
Damascus;  Moses  excludes  it;  and  therefore  Moses  draws 
his  line  westward  from  Hazar-enan  to  Riblah,  and  then 
south  through  Ccele-Syria  to  the  Jordan.  Shaphan ,  the 
next  point  after  Hazar,  is  unknown;  but  we  must  pay  a 
visit  to  Riblah. 

RIBLAH. 

My  first  visit  to  Riblah  I  have  elsewhere  described  ;*  my 
second  dates  some  three  years  later. 

Leaving  Sudud  with  the  dawn,  accompanied  only  by  my 
two  servants  and  a  guide,  I  crossed  the  dreary  plain  to 
Hasya  (three  hours).  It  was  rather  a  hazardous  ride,  es¬ 
pecially  after  the  experience  of  the  “night  march.”  We 
arrived  in  safety,  however,  greatly  to  the  surprise  of  my 
good  friend  the  Aga  of  Hasya,  who  assured  me  the  Beda- 
win  were  keeping  the  whole  country  in  commotion,  and  had 
made  the  main  road  to  Damascus  impassable. 

After  two  hours  rest,  and  a  substantial  breakfast  in  the 

•  “  Five  Tears  in  Damascus  ”  vol.  ii. 


RUINS  OF  RIBLAH. 


325 


Aga’s  hospitable  castle,  I  mounted  again  and  set  out  for 
Riblah.  My  route  still  lay  in  the  plain ;  but  the  northern 
slopes  of  Anti-Lebanon  now  rose  up,  bare  and  stern,  close 
upon  my  left.  In  an  hour  I  passed  through  a  gap  which 
intersects  the  ridge  near  its  termination ;  and  then  another 
hour’s  gallop  brought  me  to  Riblah. 

Riblah  retains' its  ancient  name,  though  scarce  a  fragment 
of  the  ancient  city  is  visible.  Its  houses  are  poor  and  mean, 
but  the  site  is  splendid.  The  Orontes  flows  past,  a  deep 
lazy  river ;  and  a  plain  of  unrivalled  fertility  stretches  away 
for  miles  on  each  side.  Has  my  reader  ever  remarked  the 
accuracy  of  Biblical  topography  even  in  the  minutest  de¬ 
tails?  Moses  speaks  of  “  Riblah  on  the  east  side  of  Ain  /” 
or  of  “  the  fountain,”  as  the  Hebrew  signifies.  Ten  miles 
west  of  Riblah  is  the  great  fountain  of  the  Orontes,  which 
I  also  visited,  and  which  is  to  this  day  called  by  all  the 
people  in  the  neighbourhood  el- Ain ,  “  the  fountain.” 

After  the  battle  of  Megiddo,  fatal  to  good  King  Josiah, 
Pharaoh-necho,  continuing  his  march  toward  Assyria,  en¬ 
camped  at  Riblah,  and  here  settled  the  succession  in  the 
Jewish  monarchy  by  putting  Eliakim  on  the  throne  (2 
Kings  xxiii.  29-34).  Here  also,  on  this  noble  plain,  Ne¬ 
buchadnezzar  appears  to  have  remained  in  camp  while  his 
general  besieged  and  took  Jerusalem.  To  this  place  the 
Jewish  monarch  was  brought  a  captive,  and  his  eyes  put 
out  immediately  after  witnessing  the  cruel  murder  of  his 
sons  (2  Kings  xxv.  1-7). 

On  the  blood-stained  site  I  sat,  and  read  from  my  Bible 
the  few  incidents  of  Riblah’s  history ;  and  then  looking  upon 
the  wretched  village,  and  out  over  the  rich  but  desolate 
plain,  I  could  not  but  see  that  a  curse  was  there,  and  I 
could  not  but  feel  that  it  was  deserved. 

Other  thoughts,  sad  and  solemn,  were  also  forced  upon 
my  mind  by  the  scenes  around  me.  The  whole  Land  was 
God’s  gift  to  his  people.  He  gave  it  in  covenant  to  Abra¬ 
ham  ;  he  gave  it  in  promise  to  Moses ;  he  divided  it  in  part 


326 


NORTHERN  BORDER  LAND. 


to  the  tribes  under  Joshua ;  and  he  gave  it  in  all  its  length 
and  breadth, — “  from  the  river  of  Egypt  even  unto  the 
great  river,  the  river  Euphrates,” — to  the  nation  under 
David.  But  the  people  forgot  the  Lord’s  goodness,  and 
they  rebelled  against  his  authority,  so  that  by  their  own 
deliberate  acts  they  brought  upon  themselves  and  upon 
their  land  the  threatened  curse.  Now  upon  the  northern 
border,  as  before  upon  the  eastern,  the  southern,  and  the 
western,  with  my  own  eyes  I  witnessed  the  literal  fulfilment 
of  the  prophetic  curse, — “I  will  bring  the  land  into  deso¬ 
lation  :  and  your  enemies  which  dwell  therein  shall  be  as¬ 
tonished  at  it.  And  I  will  scatter  you  among  the  heathen, 
and  will  draw  out  a  sword  after  you :  and  your  land  shall 
be  desolate,  and  your  cities  waste.  Then  shall  the  lai  d  en¬ 
joy  her  sabbaths,  as  long  as  it  lieth  desolate,  and  ye  be  in 
your  enemies’ land  ”  (Lev.  xxvi.  32-34). 


m. 

falmgra. 

“And  Solomon  built  Tadmor  in  the  wilderness.” — 2  Chroh.  vliL  4. 

'*  Yet  I  could  weep — for  thou  art  lying,  alas  1 
Low  in  the  dust ;  and  we  admire  thee  now 
As  we  admire  the  beautiful  in  death.” 

N  the  year  1691  a  company  of  English  merchants 
resident  in  Aleppo,  heard  strange  reports  of  the 
ruins  of  a  magnificent  city  away  in  the  centre  of 
the  Syrian  desert.  The  reports  reached  them 
from  various  sources ; — from  Baghdad  traders,  who  had 
traversed  the  desert  with  their  caravans  from  native  pedlars 
and  armourers  who  followed  the  footsteps  of  the  wandering 
Bedawln ;  from  Arab  sheikhs  Avho  ruled  the  tribes  and  led 
the  raids  of  the  Anezeh  and  Beni  Shemal.  One  and  all  told 
the  story  of  the  great  city.  Such  palaces  and  temples,  such 
ranges  of  columns  and  heaps  of  ruins,  such  tombs  and  cas¬ 
tles,  such  multitudes  of  inscriptions,  and  statues,  and  monu¬ 
ments  the  world  had  never  seen  as  were  there,  grouped 
around  the  fountains,  and  scattered  over  the  desolate  plain 
of  Tadmor.  The  glowing  descriptions  were  like  a  romance 
from  Antar  or  a  tale  from  the  Arabian  Nights. 

“  The  ground, 

League  beyond  league,  like  one  great  cemetery 
Is  covered  o’er  with  mouldering  monuments : 

And,  let  the  living  wander  where  they  will, 

They  cannot  leave  the  footsteps  of  the  dead.” 

Making  every  allowance  for  Oriental  exaggeration,  and  the 


328 


NORTHERN  BORDER  LAND. 


magic  influence  of  Eastern  fancy,  the  merchants  thought 
there  must  be  sonu  foundation  of  fact — enough,  at  least,  to 
repay  the  toil  and  expense  of  an  expedition.  It  was  a  se¬ 
rious  matter  in  those  days  to  penetrate  the  desert ;  it  is  a 
work  of  some  difficulty  and  danger  even  yet.  But  an  ex¬ 
pedition  was  organized ;  guides  and  guards  were  hired ;  the 
pathless  waste  was  traversed ;  and  the  adventurous  travel¬ 
lers  were  richly  repaid  by  the  discovery  of  the  long  lost 
ruins  of  “ Tadmor  in  the  wilderness”  the  city  founded  by 
Solomon  and  ruled  by  Zenobia.  In  a  few  months  all  Eu¬ 
rope  resounded  with  the  story  of  their  adventures,  and  the 
glowing  descriptions  of  the  desert  city. 

For  more  than  half  a  century  the  interesting  narrative  of 
the  Aleppo  merchants  was  read  with  a  kind  of  semi-scepti¬ 
cism.  The  leading  facts  were  not  questioned.  None  went 
so  far  as  to  doubt  that  the  classic  Palmyra  had  been  dis¬ 
covered  ;  but  it  was  generally  thought  that  the  descriptions 
of  the  ruins  were  highly  coloured,  and  that  when  other  trav¬ 
ellers  would  explore  and  describe  them,  uninfluenced  by 
the  excitement  of  a  great  discovery,  by  those  feelings  of  ro¬ 
mance  which  sometimes  encircle  as  a  halo  the  minds  of  an¬ 
tiquarian  and  geographical  pioneers,  the  real,  matter-of-fact, 
character  and  state  of  the  ancient  city  would  become  known. 

In  the  year  1751  another  celebrated  expedition  reached 
Palmyra.  It  was  well  organized,  fully  equipped,  and  the 
objects  it  aimed  at  were  successfully  accomplished.  The 
expedition  was  planned  and  carried  out  by  men  who,  from 
their  great  learning,  classic  tastes,  and  previous  travels  in 
Italy,  Greece,  and  Asia  Minor,  were  in  every  respect  quali¬ 
fied  satisfactorily  to  explore,  delineate,  and  describe  the 
city.  They  were  supplied  with  the  best  books  and  instru¬ 
ments,  and  accompanied  by  an  accomplished  architect  and 
draughtsman.  They  spent  two  weeks  surveying,  measur¬ 
ing,  sketching,  drawing  plans,  and  copying  inscriptions ;  and 
they  returned  across  the  desert  with  full  portfolios,  and  a 
caravan  of  camels  laden  with  marbles  and  works  of  art, 


WONDERFUL  RUINS. 


329 


The  splendid  folio  which  they  afterwards  published*  will 
give  such  as  have  not  visited  the  city  the  best  idea  of  its 
wonderful  remains.  This  great  work  showed  European 
scholars  that  the  narrative  of  the  Aleppo  merchants,  instead 
of  being  exaggerated,  fell  short  of  the  truth.  In  describing 
the  ruins  of  Palmyra  it  would  be  almost  impossible  to  ex¬ 
aggerate.  There  is  nothing  like  them  in  the  world.  The 
sight  of  them  from  the  adjoining  hill  top  is  like  a  dream  of 
fairy  land.  True,  there  are  in  Athens  and  other  cities  of 
Greece  single  buildings  chaster  in  style,  and  more  perfect 
in  execution,  than  any  of  which  Palmyra  can  boast ;  there 
are  also  in  Egypt  and  Syria  structures  of  more  colossal  mag¬ 
nitude  ;  but  in  no  other  spot  in  the  world  can  we  find  such 
vast  numbers  of  temples,  palaces,  colonnades,  tombs,  and 
monuments,  grouped  together  so  as  to  be  seen  at  a  single 
glance.  Here  is  the  testimony  of  Wood  and  Dawkins,  the 
leaders  of  the  expedition  of  which  I  have  just  spoken,  given 
after  traversing  the  whole  circuit  of  lands  classic  and  sa¬ 
cred  : — “  W e  had  scarce  passed  these  venerable  monuments 
when  the  hills  opening  discovered  to  us,  all  at  once,  the 
greatest  quantity  of  ruins  we  had  ever  seen ,  all  of  white 
marble,  and  beyond  them  towards  the  Euphrates  a  flat  waste 
as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  without  any  object  which 
showed  either  life  or  motion.  It  is  scarce  possible  to  imagine 
anything  more  striking  than  this  view ;  so  great  a  number 
of  Corinthian  pillars,  mixed  with  so  little  wall  or  solid  build¬ 
ing,  afforded  a  most  romantic  variety  of  prospect.” 

It  is  greatly  to  be  desired  that  some  of  our  accomplished 
and  enterprising  photographers  would  pay  a  visit  to  Palmy¬ 
ra.  The  sketches  and  drawings  of  Wood  and  Dawkins  are 
beautiful  and  faithful ;  but  however  skilful  the  pencil  of  the 
artist,  however  accurate  the  eye  and  the  scale  of  the  archi¬ 
tect,  in  minuteness  of  detail  and  perfection  of  representa¬ 
tion,  neither  the  one  nor  the  other  can  rival  the  sun  picture. 
Then  the  monuments  of  the  desert  city  are  so  numerous, 
*  The  Ruins  of  Palmyra ,  otherurise  Tadmor  in  the  Desert.  London,  1T53. 


NORTHERN  BORDER  LAND. 


their  grouping  so  peculiar,  and  now,  alas !  so  confused,  that 
it  is  impossible  to  give  a  faithful  delineation  in  sketch  or 
drawing.  And,  besides,  the  artist  can  never  command  suf¬ 
ficient  time  and  quiet  for  his  work.  He  is  dogged  every¬ 
where,  as  I  can  tell  from  sad  experience,  by  prying  and  of 
ten  persecuting  Bedawin,  watching  every  opportunity  pri¬ 
vately  to  pilfer,  or  openly  to  plunder.  In  addition  to  the 
great  monuments,  and  the  exquisitely  sculptured  ornaments 
on  portals,  cornice,  and  pediment,  there  are  those  unique 
Palmyrene  and  bilingual  inscriptions,  which  the  photogra¬ 
pher  alone  can  reproduce.  A  skilful  manipulator,  with  a 
good  staff  of  assistants,  would  photograph  all  Palmyra  in  a 
single  week,  and  would  bring  back  with  him  to  the  West  a 
series  of  pictures  almost  unrivalled  for  beauty,  strangeness, 
and  historic  and  antiquarian  interest. 

THE  ISHMAELITE. 

My  journey  to  Palmyra  was  somewhat  adventurous.  My 
whole  party  consisted  of  an  English  friend,  an  Arak  sheikh, 
and  a  camel  driver, — four  men  in  all,  mounted  on  three  drom¬ 
edaries.  To  attempt  to  go  from  Damascus  to  Tadmor, 
through  a  hundred  miles  of  desert  infested  by  prowling  ban¬ 
dits,  and  overrun  by  hostile  Bedawin,  with  such  an  escort 
may  probably  appear  a  little  rash.  And  looking  back  upon 
it  now  from  the  calm  seclusion  of  my  library,  where  the  ex¬ 
citement  and  romance  of  Eastern  travel  find  no  place,  I  am 
inclined  to  think  it  was  rash.  It  had  these  good  effects, 
however;  it  led  me  away  from  the  ordinary  and  direct 
route ;  it  brought  me  into  close  contact  with  a  number  of 
friendly  tribes ;  it  gave  me  large  experience  of  genuine  Arab 
hospitality ;  and  it  afforded  me,  besides,  some  very  palpable, 
if  not  very  pleasant,  illustrations  of  the  truth  of  the  prophecy 
pronounced  of  old  on  Ishmael  and  his  posterity : — “  He  will 
be  a  wild  man ;  his  hand  will  be  against  every  man,  and 
every  man’s  hand  against  him”  (Gen.  xvi.  12). 


THE  DESERT. 


331 


It  was  the  fifth  morning  of  our  journey,  and  the  sheikh 
told  us  that  by  noon  we  should  see  the  ruins  of  Tadmor. 

For  three  whole  days  we  had  already  marched  through 
the  desert.  Not,  however,  the  desert  of  boyhood’s  fancy, — 
a  plain  of  drifting  sand,  blazing  in  the  fierce  sunbeams,  and 
bounded  by  the  circle  of  the  horizon.  This  desert  had  more 
pleasing  features.  There  were  long  ranges,  and  clustering 
groups  of  mountains,  presenting  an  agreeable  variety  of 
form  and  outline,  and  occasionally  also  of  colour,  though  the 
general  hue  was  that  light  grey,  or  yellowish  white,  so 
characteristic  of  the  limestone  strata  of  Syria.  Here  and 
there  a  bluff  of  dark  red  sandstone,  or  a  dyke  of  black  trap, 
or  a  graceful  cone  of  snow-white  chalk,  broke  the  uniformi¬ 
ty.  At  one  or  two  points  I  saw  a  singular  combination  of 
colours  in  the  same  peak, — white,  red,  pink,  and  black, — re¬ 
minding  one  of  the  gorgeous  hues  of  the  cliffs  of  Edom. 
Between  the  mountains  were  long  winding  vales,  and  deep 
rugged  glens,  now  in  early  spring  all  spangled  with  the 
bright  red  anemone,  and  poppy,  and  gay  convolvulus,  in¬ 
termixed  with  a  few,  a  very  few,  tufts  of  green  grass*  and 
green  weeds.  In  all  other  respects  it  was  a  desert.  Not  a 
single  house  or  sign  of  settled  habitation  was  there ;  not  a 
solitary  patch  of  cultivated  ground  was  anywhere  to  be 
seen ;  not  a  drop  of  water  in  stream,  fountain,  well,  or  tank 
did  we  ever  meet  with ;  not  a  tree  or  green  shrub  appeared 
on  the  sides  of  those  bare,  desolate  hills.  This  is  just  such 
a  region  as  the  Old  Testament  writers  would  have  called 
Midbar  (the  name  usually  given  to  the  peninsula  of  Sinai, 
and  the  “  wilderness  of  wandering  ”),  a  region  devoid  of  cul¬ 
tivation  and  settled  inhabitant,  but  affording  good  pasture 
for  flocks  and  herds. 

The  desert  was  now  all  alive  with  the  great  tribe  of  the 
Anezeh  who  claim  its  pastures  as  their  own.  Every  few 
miles  we  came  upon  a  little  circlet  of  black  tents  pitched  in 
some  retired  vale,  or  near  some  secret  well;-  and  when  we 
saw  the  droves  of  camels  covering  the  country  for  miles  and 


332 


NORTHERN  BORDER  LAND. 


miles,  and  the  flocks  of  sheep  and  goats,  we  learned  how  the 
flocks  and  herds  of  Israel  were  fed  during  their  forty  years 
wandering  in  the  midbar  of  Sinai. 

Many  strange  and  interesting  traits  of  Arab  life  and  law 
came  under  our  notice.  Whenever  our  path  led  us  near  an 
encampment,  as  was  frequently  the  case,  we  always  found 
some  active  sheikh,  or  venerable  patriarch,  sitting  “in  his 
tent  door,”  and  as  soon  as  we  were  within  hail,  we  heard  the 
earnest  words  of  welcome  and  invitation,  which  the  Old  Tes¬ 
tament  Scriptures  had  rendered  long  ago  familiar  to  us : 
“Stay,  my  lord,  stay.  Pass  not  on  till  thou  hast  eaten 
bread,  and  rested  under  thy  servant’s  tent.  Alight  and  re¬ 
main  until  thy  servant  kills  a  kid  and  prepares  a  feast.” 
Again  and  again  were  these  invitations  given  and  urged  in 
such  a  way  that  we  found  it  impossible  to  resist  them.  In 
fact,  our  progress  was  seriously  delayed  by  this  truly  patri¬ 
archal  hospitality ;  and  more  than  once  or  twice  we  were 
witnesses  of  the  almost  inconceivable  rapidity  with  which 
the  kid  was  killed,  prepared,  and  served  up  with  “butter 
and  milk,”  after  the  manner  of  Abraham’s  feast  at  Mamre, 
(Gen.  xviii.) 

Another  trait  of  desert  life  we  also  noticed.  On  several 
occasions  we  suddenly  and  unexpectedly  found  ourselves 
close  to  a  solitary  tent  or  small  encampment,  whose  occu¬ 
pants  were  unknown  to  our  leader,  and  suspected  to  be  ene¬ 
mies  of  his  tribe.  We  were  then  told  to  muffle  up  our  faces, 
drive  our  dromedaries  quickly  up  to  the  tent  door  and  dis¬ 
mount.  We  were  thus  safe.  Arab  law  made  the  master 
of  the  tent  responsible  for  our  lives  and  our  entertainment. 
On  such  occasions  not  a  word  was  spoken  till  we  were  seat¬ 
ed  within  the  tent,  and  not  a  question  was  ever  asked  dur¬ 
ing  the  whole  time  we  remained  as  to  who  we  were,  whence 
we  had  come,  or  whither  we  were  going.  A  similar  trait  of 
the  Scottish  Highlanders  is  beautifully  illustrated  by  Scott 
in  the  “  Lady  of  the  Lake,” — 

“  Meet  welcome  to  her  guest  she  made, 

And  every  courteous  rite  was  paid. 


MARCH  THROUGH  THE  DESERT. 


353 

That  hospitality  could  Jlaim, 

Though  all  unasked  his  birth  and  name. 

Such  then  the  reverence  to  a  guest, 

That  fellest  foe  might  join  the  feast, 

And  from  his  deadliest  foeman’s  door 
Unquestioned  turn,  the  banquet  o’er.” 

It  was  doubtless  such  hospitality  that  Job  boasted  of 
when  he  said :  “  The  stranger  did  not  lodge  in  the  street ;  I 
opened  my  doors  to  the  traveller”  (xxxi.  32). 

It  was,  as  I  said,  the  fifth  morning  of  our  journey.  We 
were  up  before  the  dawn,  and  the  first  grey  streak  of  the 
new  day  was  just  visible  along  the  eastern  horizon  as  we 
mounted  our  dromedaries  and  rode  off.  The  camp  where 
we  had  spent  the  night  lay  in  a  broad  valley,  shut  in  on  the 
north  and  south  by  steep  ranges  of  naked  limestone,  but 
opening  on  the  east,  at  the  distance  of  a  few  miles,  to  a 
boundless  plain.  Our  leader  went  straight  to  the  northern 
ridge.  Up  it  we  scrambled  by  a  track  so  steep,  so  rugged, 
and  in  places  so  narrow,  that  I  often  feared  the  dromedaries 
would  topple  over  and  dash  us  to  pieces  on  the  rocks  far 
below.  From  the  summit  we  had  a  commanding  view.  In 
front  a  broad  plain,  bare  and  grey,  bounded  on  the  north  by 
a  line  of  rocky  mountains  almost  perfectly  white.  Behind 
us  another  plain,  green  with  the  grass  of  spring,  and  thickly 
studded  with  the  black  tents  of  Bedawin. 

We  now  turned  eastward  and  descended  diagonally  into 
a  plain  so  barren  and  desolate  that  we  had  never  seen  any¬ 
thing:  like  it  before.  Its  whole  surface  was  covered  with 
small  fragments  of  white  limestone,  mixed  with  pieces  of 
dark  coloured  flint.  The  sky  was  still,  as  it  had  been  for 
three  days,  without  a  cloud ;  and  the  sunbeams  fell  on  that 
parched  desert  like  streams  of  liquid  fire.  The  skin  of  our 
faces  and  lips  shrivelled  and  cracked  with  the  heat,  our  eyes 
could  with  difficulty  endure  the  intense  glare,  and  like  J acob 
“  the  drought  consumed  us,”  for  the  water  was  exhausted  in 
our  bottles.  On  we  pressed  with  sweeping  step  and  ship¬ 
like  motion,  in  perfect  silence,  our  very  dromedaries  appear- 


834 


NORTHERN  BORDER  LAND. 


in g  to  feel  that  this  was  a  region  to  be  traversed  with  all 
possible  despatch. 

Suddenly,  on  emerging  from  a  little  glen,  a  scene  of  rare 
beauty  burst  upon  our  view,  taking  us  completely  by  sur¬ 
prise.  A  lake  appeared  in  front,  its  margin  fringed  with 
shrubs  and  tall  reeds ;  here  and  there  an  islet  varied  its  sur¬ 
face,  covered  with  dwarf  palms,  whose  graceful  feathery 
branches  bent  down  to  the  glassy  waters.  Away  along  its 
further  shore  sped  a  solitary  Arab  on  a  dromedary, — now 
marching  double,  the  man  and  the  shadow ;  now  raising  the 
glittering  spray  as  the  animal’s  feet  dipped  lightly  in  the 
margin  of  the  lake.  It  was  a  fairy  scene,  looking  all  the 
more  enchanting  from  contrast  with  the  utter  barrenness  of 
the  surrounding  plain. 

Again  we  dipped  into  a  glen  that  crossed  our  path.  We 
pressed  up  the  further  side ;  we  looked  all  round.  The  lake 
was  gone.  It  was  the  mirage.  The  solitary  Arab  on  his 
fleet  dromedary  swept  past  us ;  and  so  great  was  our  sur¬ 
prise  that  we  were  prepared  to  see  him  vanish  too. 

Swiftly  and  cautiously  the  sheikh  led  us  along  the  base  of 
the  mountains  which  rose  up  far  overhead,  here  in  long, 
gravelly  slopes,  and  there  in  frowning  precipices  capped  by 
great  masses  of  projecting  rock,  which  seemed  as  if  an  in¬ 
fant’s  touch  would  hurl  them  down  upon  our  heads.  We 
surmounted  a  rocky  spur  and  the  sheikh  paused.  “  Look,” 
he  exclaimed,  pointing  to  a  narrow  opening  in  the  low  line 
of  hills  which  crossed  the  plain  in  front.  We  saw  a  castle 
crowning  a  conical  peak ;  we  saw  tall  slender  towers  on  the 
slopes,  and  in  the  bottom  of  the  pass  below.  “  That  is  Tad- 
mor.  Yallah  !  ” 

But  the  next  moment  two  wild  Arab  horsemen  reined  up 
their  panting  steeds  within  pistol  shot.  They  spoke  not  a 
word.  They  gave  not  a  sign.  One  of  them,  after  taking  a 
rapid  glance  at  our  party,  wheeled  his  horse  and  went  off  at 
full  gallop  across  the  plain.  The  other  remained,  motionless 
as  a  statue,  leaning  upon  his  long  lance.  Our  chief  was  si- 


TAKEN  PRISONER. 


335 


lent.  He  seemed  almost  paralyzed.  His  dromedary  wan¬ 
dered  about  at  will  cropping  the  dry  weeds.  Something 
was  wrong,  we  knew  not  well  what.  We  were  not  left  long 
in  suspense.  A  cloud  of  dust  appeared  approaching  us 
across  the  plain.  It  opened,  and  we  saw  a  troop  of  some 
forty  or  fifty  horsemen  charging  us  at  full  speed.  The  next 
moment  a  score  of  glittering  lances  were  brandished  fiercely 
round  our  heads.  Resistance  would  have  been  worse  than 
useless.  We  were  prisoners. 

We  were  led  off  across  the  plain  for  some  two  miles,  and 
we  then  met  the  whole  tribe  of  our  captors  on  the  march. 
It  was  a  strangely  interesting  sight.  Far  as  the  eye  could 
see  the  plain  was  covered  with  countless  droves  of  camels, 
and  flocks  of  sheep,  and  horsemen,  and  dromedaries  laden 
with  tents,  and  all  manner  of  furniture  and  utensils.  The 
sheikh,  who  happened  to  have  my  animal  by  the  halter, 
stuck  his  spear  in  the  ground  and  dismounted.  It  was  the 
signal  for  encamping.  In  a  moment  the  tents  were  on  the 
ground,  and  hundreds  of  women  wielding  the  heavy  mallets 
with  which  they  drive  in  the  large  iron  tent-pins.  This  is 
always  their  work,  and  they  do  it  with  singular  dexterity. 
Looking  at  them,  I  could  not  but  remember  Jael.  “She 
put  her  hand  to  the  tent-pin  (the  Hebrew  word  translated 
4  nail  ’  is  the  very  same  as  the  Arabic  name  for  4  tent-pin  ’) ; 
her  right  hand  to  the  hammer  of  the  workers;  she  ham¬ 
mered  Sisera,  and  smote  his  head ;  she  beat  and  pierced  his 
temples  ”  (Judges  v.  26). 

We  had  other  illustrations  of  the  same  tragic  story  when 
the  tents  were  pitched.  We  were  thirsty  and  they  brought 
us  milk  fresh  ft-om  the  camel.  Then  they  set  before  us  a 
huge  metal  dish  of  leben  (“sour  curds”).  “Blessed  above 
women  shall  Jael  the  wife  of  Heber  the  Kenite  be;  blessed 
shall  she  be  above  women  in  the  tent.  Water  he  asked , 
milk  she  gave  him.  In  a  lordly  dish  she  set  curds  before 
him.”  (ver.  25.) 

15 


E35 


NORTHERN  BORDER  LAND. 


“tadmoe  in  the  wilderness.” 

At  first  our  prosj>ects  in  our  desert  prison  looked  gloomy 
enough.  A  large  ransom  was  demanded.  Uncomfortable 
threats  were  thrown  out  when  we  curtly  refused  it.  Grad¬ 
ually,  however,  our  hopes  brightened,  and  by  noon  the  next 
day  all  was  so  satisfactorily  arranged  that  our  captors  es¬ 
corted  us  in  grand  style  to  Tadmor. 

The  first  view  of  that  classic  city  was  strange  and  impres¬ 
sive  far  beyond  all  our  anticipations.  We  reached  the  pass 
through  the  low  eastern  ridge ;  we  began  the  ascent  of  a 
rising  ground  that  forms  the  crown  of  the  pass.  So  far  we 
saw  nothing  except  the  old  castle  overhead  on  the  left,  and 
a  few  tower-like  tombs  on  the  hill  sides.  The  crest  was 
gained  at  last,  and  then  the  whole  site  of  the  city  burst 
upon  our  view. 

Immediately  before  us  lay  a  white  plain,  some  three  or 
four  miles  in  circuit,  entirely  covered,  and  in  many  places 
heaped  up  with  ruins.  Through  the  centre  ran  a  Corinthian 
colonnade.  Away  beyond  it,  on  the  east,  rose  the  great 
temple  of  the  sun,  itself  almost  a  city  for  magnitude.  To 
the  right  and  left,  in  endless  variety,  were  scattered  groups 
of  columns,  and  single  monumental  pillars;  while  every¬ 
where  the  ground  was  thickly  strewn  with  broken  shafts, 
and  great  shapeless  piles  of  ruins,  all  white  and  glistening  in 
the  bright  sunlight.  Such  a  sight  no  eye  ever  saw  else¬ 
where  : — 

“ Temples,  palaces,  a  wondrous  dream, 

That  passes  not  away ;  for  many  a  league, 

Illumine  yet  the  desert.” 

All  too  was  desolate.  Like  bleached  bones  on  a  long  neg¬ 
lected  battle-field  those  ruins  lie,  lonely  and  forsaken. 

On  the  southern  side  of  the  city  a  tiny  stream  flows  from 
a  chasm  in  the  mountain  side,  and  winds  eastward  fringed 
with  grass  and  tender  foliage,  until  it  ends  in  a  circlet  of 
gardens,  the  brilliant  verdure  of  whose  orchards  and  palm- 
groves  contrasts  beautifully  with  the  intense  whiteness  of 


RUINS  OF  PALMYRA. 


387 


the  ruins  and  of  the  boundless  plain  beyond.  Palmyra  was 
a  double  oasis  in  the  desert — an  oasis  of  nature  and  of  art ; 
of  physical  richness,  and  of  architectural  splendour. 

THE  TEMPLE  OF  THE  SUN. 

This  is  the  finest  building  in  Palmyra,  and  for  extent  and 
beauty  it  is  scarcely  surpassed  in  the  world.  A  court,  two 
hundred  and  fifty  yards  square,  was  encompassed  by  a  wall 
seventy  feet  high,  richly  ornamented  externally  with  pilas¬ 
ters,  frieze,  and  cornice.  The  entrance  was  through  a  por¬ 
tico  of  ten  columns.  Round  the  whole  interior  ran  a  double 
colonnade,  forming  “  porches  ”  or  cloisters  like  those  of  the 
temple  at  Jerusalem.  Each  pillar  in  the  cloisters  had  a  pe¬ 
destal,  or  bracket,  for  a  statue.  Near ,  but  not  in  the  centre 
of  the  court,  is  the  naos ,  or  temple  itself — in  this  respect 
also  resembling  Herod’s  temple.  It  was  encircled  by  a  sin¬ 
gle  row  of  fluted  Corinthian  columns,  with  bronze  capitals, 
supporting  an  unbroken  entablature  richly  ornamented  with 
festoons  of  fruit  and  flowers,  held  up  at  intervals  by  winged 
genii.  The  effect  of  the  whole — the  white  pillars,  the  bronze 
capitals,  the  sculptured  cornice,  the  noble  cloisters,  the  long 
ranges  of  statues — must  have  been  grand.  W e  have  scarce¬ 
ly  any  building  now  that  will  bear  comparison  with  it. 

The  encircling  wall  is  still  tolerably  perfect,  and  the  naos 
is  nearly  complete.  Above  a  hundred  of  the  pillars  in  the 
cloisters  remain  standing ;  but  the  greater  part  of  the  inte¬ 
rior  is  encumbered  with  the  miserable  hovels  of  the  modern 
inhabitants,  who  have  all  clustered  together  here  for  safety. 

THE  GRAND  COLONNADE. 

Next  to  the  Temple  of  the  Sun  the  Colonnade  is  the  most 
remarkable  object  in  Palmyra.  Commencing  on  the  east  at 
a  splendid  triumphal  arch,  it  runs  through  the  centre  of  the 
city,  and  is  nearly  a  mile  in  length.  There  were  originally 
four  rows  of  columns,  about  sixty  feet  high,  forming  a  cen¬ 
tral  and  two  side  avenues.  When  complete,  it  must  have 


I 


838  NORTHERN  BORDER  LAND. 

contained  above  fifteen  hundred  columns,  more  than  one 
hundred  and  fifty  of  which  still  stand.  Each  column  has  on 
its  inner  side  about  eight  feet  above  its  base,  a  bracket  for 
a  statue.  One  remarkable  feature  of  the  Colonnade  is,  that 
it  is  bent  slightly  in  the  middle ;  and  on  looking  along  it 
one  sees  how  much  this  adds  to  its  effect.  What  a  noble 
promenade  for  the  old  Palmyrenes !  sheltered  from  the  sun’s 
fierce  rays ;  open  to  every  gentle  breeze ;  statues  of  their 
country’s  nobles  and  patriots,  poets  and  philosophers,  ranged 
in  long  lines  beside  them ;  and  the  background  filled  in  with 
gorgeous  fa9ades  of  temples  and  palaces,  tombs  and  monu¬ 
ments  !  Broken  and  shattered  though  it  is,  with  hundreds 
of  its  polished  shafts  prostrate,  and  long  ranges  of  its  sculp¬ 
tured  cornice  lying  amidst  dust  and  rubbish,  the  Colonnade 
of  Tadmor  forms  one  of  the  most  imposing  pictures  in  the 
world.  I  was  never  tired  looking  at  it.  I  saw  some  new 
and  striking  feature  from  every  point  of  view. 

It  is  a  curious  fact  that  every  great  city  of  the  East  had  a 
via  recta — “a  Straight  street,”  or  “High  street” — some¬ 
what  similar  in  plan  and  ornament  to  that  at  Palmyra. 
Traces  of  the  streets  and  colonnades  may  still  be  seen  at 
Gerasa,  Samaria,  Bozrah,  and  Apamea ;  and  after  a  little  in¬ 
vestigation  I  discovered  that  “  the  street  called  Straight  ”  in 
Damascus  (Acts  ix.  11)  was  of  the  same  kind. 

THE  TOMBS. 

The  Palmyrenes,  like  all  other  Eastern  nations,  gave  spe¬ 
cial  honour  to  the  memory  of  the  dead.  Among  the  most 
beautiful  and  remarkable  of  the  monuments  are  sepulchres. 
Some  of  those  within  the  city  were  of  great  size,  and  appear 
to  have  been  intended  for  temples  as  well  as  tombs.  Rock 
sepulchres,  so  common  throughout  Syria,  Edom,  and  Egypt, 
are  here  unknown ;  and  their  place  is  taken  by  tower-shaped 
structures  which  seem  to  be  peculiar  to  Palmyra.  They 
are  very  numerous.  One  sees  them  in  the  plain  all  round 
the  city,  on  both  sides  of  the  pass  which  leads  to  it  from  the 


TOMBS  OF  PALMYRA. 


339 


west,  and  a  few  are  perched  on  the  tops  of  neighbouring 
peaks.  The  plan  of  all  is  the  same,  though  they  vary  great¬ 
ly  in  the  style  and  richness  of  the  internal  ornaments.  They 
are  square,  measuring  from  twenty  to  thirty  feet  on  each 
side,  generally  four  stories  in  height.  Each  story  consists  of 
a  single  chamber  constructed  with  tiers  of  deep  loculi ,  or 
recesses,  on  each  side,  reaching  from  floor  to  ceiling.  It  was 
usual  to  place  busts  of  the  dead,  with  names  and  dates, 
either  at  the  openings  of  the  loculi ,  or  on  the  Avails  or  ceil¬ 
ings.  The  decorations  of  some  of  these  mansions  of  the 
dead  are  exceedingly  rich  and  chaste.  The  tiers  of  recesses 
are  separated  by  slender  pillars  of  marble,  and  the  walls  and 
ceilings  pannelled  and  ornamented  with  festoons  of  fruit  and 
flowers,  and  finely  executed  busts.  Inscriptions  are  numer¬ 
ous,  and  almost  all  in  the  Palmyrene  character.  The  effect 
of  the  decorations  is  greatly  heightened  by  chaste  colour¬ 
ing.  The  ground  is  generally  a  delicate  blue,  which  throws 
out  in  bolder  relief  the  pure  Avhite  masses  of  sculpture. 
The  inscriptions  on  these  tombs  shoAV  that  they  were  almost 
all  erected  during  the  first  three  centuries  of  our  era. 

In  addition  to  the  tower-tombs  there  are  in  the  plain  to 
the  north  and  south  of  the  city  immense  numbers  of  subter¬ 
ranean  sepulchres.  They  are  not  heAvn  in  the  rock,  but  ap¬ 
pear  to  have  been  built  in  natural  or  artificial  cavities,  and 
then  covered  over  Avith  soil.  Those  which  have  been 
opened  Avere  found  to  contain  loculi ,  busts,  statues,  and  in¬ 
scriptions  like  the  other  sepulchres.  Numbers  of  them  still 
remain  unexplored,  and  may  one  day  afford  rich  treasures 
to  the  antiquary.  The  mode  of  sepulture  appears  to  have 
been  always  as  follows : — The  body  was  embalmed,  wrapped 
tightly  up  in  linen,  and  placed  in  a  recess,  the  door  of  which 
was  then  closed  and  hermetically  sealed. 

The  walls  of  Palmyra  are  now  in  ruins.  In  some  places 
it  is  Avith  difficulty  one  can  even  trace  their  foundations. 
Not  a  building  Avithin  the  city  remains  standing.  A  strong 
castle,  situated  on  the  summit  of  a  steep  conical  peak,  a 


340 


NORTHERN  BORDER  LAND. 


short  distance  from,  the  city,  is  also  in  ruins.  On  a  calm 
bright  evening  during  my  stay,  I  clambered  up  the  hill, 
scaled  the  shattered  battlements,  and  took  my  seat  on  the 
top  of  its  highest  tower.  I  can  never  forget  that  view.  It 
is  photographed  on  my  memory  in  all  its  vast  extent,  in  all 
its  wild  grandeur,  in  all  its  strange  and  terrible  desolation. 
Westward  my  eye  roamed  far  away,  through  the  long  vis¬ 
ta  of  a  bare  white  valley,  to  where  the  sun’s  last  rays  gilt 
the  snow-capped  summits  of  Lebanon.  On  the  north  and 
south  were  mountain  ranges  which,  though  naked  and  bar¬ 
ren,  now  exhibited  a  richness  and  delicacy  of  colouring 
never  seen  in  the  west.  It  was  not  that  of  green  turf,  nor 
of  brown  heath,  nor  of  mottled  and  variegated  foliage,  nor 
of  transparent  blue  tinted  by  the  air  of  heaven.  It  was  dif¬ 
ferent  from  all  these.  The  highest  peaks  and  crags  were 
tipped  as  with  burnished  gold.  Beneath  was  a  clear  silvery 
gray,  which  was  shaded  gradually  into  a  deep  rich  purple 
in  the  glens  and  valleys.  These  soft  and  strange  tints  gave 
the  mountains  a  dreamy,  ethereal  look,  such  as  one  sees  on 
some  of  the  wondrous  pictures  of  Turner.  ....  On  the  east 
a  glowing  horizon  swept  round  a  semicircle  of  unbroken, 
snow-white  plain.  At  my  feet,  in  the  centre  of  all,  lay  the 
ruins  of  the  desert  city,  magnificent  even  in  their  utter  deso¬ 
lation. 


HISTORY. 

Solomon  “  built  Tadmor  in  the  wilderness  ”  (1  Kings  lx. 
18;  2  Chron.  viii.  4).  The  question  has  been  frequently 
asked,  Why  did  Solomon  build  a  city  in  the  midst  of  the 
desert,  so  far  distant  from  his  own  kingdom  ?  The  answer 
is  easy  to  any  one  who  knows  the  history  of  the  period  and 
the  geography  of  Bible  lands.  Solomon  was  a  commercial 
monarch.  One  of  his  great  aims  was  to  make  Palestine  the 
centre  of  commercial  enterprise.  To  secure  a  safe  and  easy 
route  for  the  caravans  that  imported  the  treasures  of  India, 
Persia,  and  Mesopotamia,  was  of  the  first  importance.  Tad- 


ORIGIN  AND  HISTORY  OF  PALMYRA.. 


341 


mor  lies  half  way  between  the  Euphrates  and  the  borders 
of  Syria.  It  contains  the  only  copious  fountain  in  that  arid 
desert.  Some  halting-place  was  necessary.  Water  was  ab¬ 
solutely  necessary.  Consequently,  Palmyra  was  founded  as 
a  caravan  station. 

For  a  thousand  years  we  hear  no  more  of  it.  Then  Pliny 
describes  it  as  a  large  and  powerful  independent  city.  In 
the  second  century  of  our  era  it  fell  under  the  dominion  of 
Rome,  and  to  that  age  may  be  attributed  most  of  its  splen¬ 
did  monuments.  When  the  Emperor  Valerian  was  con¬ 
quered  and  captured  by  the  Persians,  his  unworthy  son  left 
him  in  the  hands  of  the  conquerors ;  but  Odeinathus,  a  citi¬ 
zen  of  Palmyra,  marched  against  them,  defeated  them,  and 
took  the  whole  province  of  Mesopotamia.  The  services  thus 
rendered  to  Rome  were  considered  so  great  that  Odeinathus 
was  associated  in  the  empire  with  Gallienus.  This  brave 
man  was  poisoned  at  Emesa ;  but  he  bequeathed  his  power 
to  a  worthy  successor — Zenobia,  his  widow.  The  names 
of  Palmyra  and  Zenobia  can  never  be  dissociated.  Unfor¬ 
tunately,  ambition  prompted  her  to  usurp  the  high  sounding 
title,  “Queen  of  the  East.”  But  Rome  could  brook  no  rival. 
Her  army  was  defeated,  her  desert  city  laid  in  ashes,  and 
she  herself  led  in  fetters  to  grace  the  victor’s  triumph. 
Poor  Zenobia !  she  deserved  a  better  fate.  If  common  hu¬ 
manity  could  not  prevent  Roman  citizens  from  thus  exult¬ 
ing  over  a  fallen  foe,  the  memory  of  her  husband’s  services 
might  have  saved  her  from  the  indignity  of  appearing  be¬ 
fore  a  mob  in  chains. 

The  period  of  Palmyra’s  glory  was  now  past,  and  we 
have  scarcely  a  notice  in  history  of  its  decline  and  fall.  At 
the  present  moment  about  fifty  wretched  hovels,  built 
within  the  court  of  the  Temple  of  the  Sun,  form  the  only 
representatives  of  the  great  city  of  Zenobia,  and  of  “  Tad- 
mor  in  the  wilderness.” 


IV. 

Uaitrasrus. 

“  This  region,  surely,  is  not  of  the  earth, — 

Was  it  not  dropped  from  heaven  ?  ” 

AMASCUS  is  the  oldest  city  in  the  world;  and  it 
is  the  only  city  which  can  claim  the  title  “  peren¬ 
nial.”  Its  origin  is  lost  in  the  mists  of  antiquity ; 
and  during  the  whole  historic  age  it  has  been  a 
great  city.  Josephus  says  it  was  founded  by  Uz  the  son  of 
Aram  and  grandson  of  Shem.  This  is  probably  true ;  for.  it 
was  long  the  capital  of  the  western  division  of  that  country 
which  Aram  colonized,  and  to  which  he  gave  his  name.  It 
is  unfortunate  that  this  fact  does  not  appear  in  the  English 
version  of  the  Bible,  because  the  Hebrew  name  Aram  is 
there  rendered  “  Syria.” 

But  by  whomsoever  founded,  one  thing  is  certain  regard¬ 
ing  Damascus.  When  Abraham  crossed  the  desert  from 
Haran  three  thousand  eight  hundred  years  ago ,  the  city 
was  already  standing  on  the  banks  of  the  Abana ;  and  from 
that  day  till  this  it  has  held  a  first  place  among  the  capi¬ 
tals  of  Western  Asia.  It  has  seen  many  changes.  It  has 
passed  through  many  hands.  It  has  been  ruled  by  many 
masters.  Syrians,  Persians,  Greeks,  Romans,  Arabs,  and 
Turks,  have  in  turn  governed  or  oppressed  it ;  but  it  has 
lived  and  flourished  under  them  all.  Of  the  horrors  of  war 
it  has  had  its  full  share.  Not  less  than  twelve  times  it  had 
been  pillaged  and  burned ;  yet  it  has  always  arisen  with  ner 
beauty  from  its  ashes. 


HISTORY  OF  DAMASCUS 


843 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  DAMASCUS. 

Damascus  was  the  head  of  a  kingdom  which  exercised 
considerable  influence  on  the  destinies  of  the  J  ews,  and  oc¬ 
cupied  a  prominent  place  in  Old  Testament  history.  The 
kingdom  embraced  a  chain  of  Anti-Lebanon,  and  extended 
on  the  north  to  Hamath,  and  on  the  south  to  Baslian.  Though 
it  lay  within  the  “Land  of  Promise,”  it  is  not  mentioned  in 
the  early  history  of  the  Jews.  True,  Abraham’s  steward 
was  a  Damascene ;  and  if  we  can  depend  upon  a  very  an¬ 
cient  local  tradition,  the  great  patriarch  himself  resided  for 
a  time  in  the  city.  When  the  Israelites  entered  Palestine, 
Hermon  was  their  northern  border.  Neither  their  wishes 
nor  their  abilities  stretched  beyond  that  noble  mountain. 
They  found  ample  room  in  the  hills  and  valleys  of  the  south, 
and  ample  occupation  in  expelling  the  warlike  Canaanites 
who  dwelt  there. 

It  was  when  David,  firmly  established  on  his  throne,  ex¬ 
tended  his  conquests  to  the  Euphrates,  endeavouring  to  make 
the  “  Land  of  Possession  ”  coterminous  with  the  “  Land  of 
Promise”  (compare  2  Sam.  viii.  3-9;  Gen.  xv.  18-21), — - 
it  was  then  Damascus  and  Israel  became  rivals.  For  three 
centuries  and  more  that  rivalry  continued,  often  entailing 
sad  calamities  on  both.  But  this  melancholy  history  is 
chequered  with  some  romantic  episodes  which  make  the 
Bible  reader  feel  a  kind  of  home  interest  in  the  old  city. 

BIBLE  STORIES. 

First  we  have  the  grand  expedition  of  Benliadad,  when 
with  two-and-thirty  vassal  monarchs  he  invaded  Israel,  and 
sat  down  before  Samaria.  His  insulting  demand  is  well 
known  (1  Kings  xx.  5,  6) ;  and  his  awful  threat  when  it  was 
refused  almost  makes  one  shudder, — “  The  gbds  do  so  to  me, 
and  more  also,  if  the  dust  of  Samaria  shall  suffice  for  hand¬ 
fuls  for  all  the  people  that  follow  me”  (ver.  10).  It  was  an 
idle  boast ;  for  while  the  haughty  Damascene  “  was  drink* 
ing  himself  drunk  in  the  pavilions,  he  and  the  kings,”  a 


NORTHERN  BORDER  LAND. 


344 

handful  of  Jewish  warriors  surprised  the  camp  and  put  the 
whole  host  to  flight  (ver.  20). 

It  is  a  singular  fact,  showing  the  permanence  of  names  in 
the  East,  that  one  of  the  principal  families  in  Damascus,  at 
the  present  moment,  is  called  Beit  Haddad ,  “  The  house  of 
Hadad.” 

Next  we  have  the  story  of  Naaman.  Naaman  was  com- 
mander-in-chief  of  the  armies  of  Damascus,  he  was  one  of 
the  greatest  generals,  and  greatest  men  of  his  age ;  hut  “  he 
was  a  leper.”  In  some  warlike  expedition  he  had  captured 
a  little  Jewish  maid,  who  became  a  slave  in  his  harim. 
Captivity  cannot  extinguish  feelings  of  compassion  in  wo¬ 
man’s  heart.  Seeing  her  master’s  sufferings  the  maid  one 
day  exclaimed,  “Would  God  my  lord  were  with  the  pro¬ 
phet  that  is  in  Samaria !  for  he  would  recover  him  of  his 
leprosy.”  To  Samaria  Naaman  went.  Elisha  did  not  con¬ 
descend  to  see  him ;  but  sent  him  word  to  go  and  wash  in 
the  Jordan.  The  proud  Damascene  was  indignant:  “Be¬ 
hold,  I  thought,  He  will  surely  come  out  to  me,  and  stand, 
and  call  on  the  name  of  the  Lord  his  God,  and  strike  his 
hand  over  the  place,  and  recover  the  leper.  Are  not  Abana 
and  Pharpar,  rivers  of  Damascus,  better  than  all  the  waters 
of  Israel?  may  I  not  wash  in  them  and  be  clean?  So  he 
turned  and  went  away  in  a  rage.”  The  whole  scene  was 
thoroughly  Oriental.  The  servants  now  interfere.  Better 
counsels  prevail;  and  Naaman  washed  and  was  cleansed 
(2  Kings  v.) 

The  memory  of  Naaman  clings  to  Damascus  yet.  Out¬ 
side  the  walls,  on  the  banks  of  the  Abana,  is  a  leper  hospi¬ 
tal,  which,  tradition  says,  occupies  the  site  of  Naaman’s 
house.  I  have  often  visited  it,  and  when  looking;  on  its 
miserable  inmates,  all  disfigured  and  mutilated  by  their 
loathsome  disease,  I  could  not  wonder  that  the  heart  of  the 
little  Jewish  captive  was  moved  by  her  master’s  sufferings. 

Then  follows  the  miraculous  deliverance  of  Israel  from  the 
king  of  Damascus  by  Elisha.  Having  learned  that  Elisha 


BIBLE  STORIES. 


845 


was  the  cause  of  all  his  failures,  the  king  resolved  to  seize 
him.  Accordingly,  on  a  certain  night,  he  surrounded  the 
village  of  Dothan,  in  which  the  prophet  dwelt,  with  horse¬ 
men  and  chariots.  In  the  morning  Elisha’s  servants  came 
trembling  and  crying,  “Alas,  my  master!  how  shall  we 
do?”  “Fear  not,”  said  the  man  of  God;  “they  that  be 
with  us  are  more  than  they  that  be  with  them.”  Then  he 
prayed,  “Lord,  open  his  eyes.”  “And  the  Lord  opened 
the  eyes  of  the  young  man ;  and  he  saw ;  and ,  behold ,  the 
mountain  was  full  of  horses  and  chariots  of  fire  round 
about  Elisha ”  (2  Kings  vi.  13-17).  The  result  is  well 
known.  We  can  imagine  the  surprise  and  terror  of  the  sol¬ 
diers  of  Damascus  when  they  found  themselves  alone  and 
helpless  in  the  stronghold  of  their  enemy. 

What  a  glorious  type  of  saving  power  is  here !  As  it 
was  with  Elisha,  so  it  ever  is  with  God’s  suffering  children. 
The  hosts  of  heaven  encompass  them.  Were  their  eyes  only 
opened  by  Divine  agency,  they  might  see,  as  Elisha  saw, 
the  flaming  chariots  and  magnificent  array  of  God’s  armies 
marshalled  round  them.  The  prophet’s  vision  illustrate  the 
apostle’s  words  regarding  the  angels — “  Are  they  not  all 
ministering  spirits,  sent  forth  to  minister  for  them  who  shall 
be  heirs  of  salvation”  (Heb.  i.  14). 

The  memorable  interview  between  Elisha  and  Hazael  fol¬ 
lows  next.  Elijah  had  been  commissioned  to  anoint  Ha¬ 
zael;  but  we  have  no  record  of  the  act.  His  successor, 
Elisha,  was  now  upon  a  visit  to  the  city.  Benhadad,  the 
king,  was  sick,  and  sent  Hazael  to  ask  the  prophet  whether 
he  would  recover.  Elisha  read  the  thoughts  that  lurked  in 
the  traitor’s  heart,  and  drew  such  a  picture  of  his  future  ca¬ 
reer  that  Hazael  cried  in  indignation  and  horror,  “Is  thy 
servant  a  dog,  that  he  should  do  this  thing?”  Yet  the 
first  act  in  that  long  and  bloody  drama  he  perpetrated  that 
very  night.  Returning  to  the  city,  Hazael  murdered  his 
master  and  mounted  the  throne.  Thus  terminated  the  royal 
line  of  Benhadad . 


346 


NORTHERN  BORDER  LAND. 


The  Jews  of  Damascus  have  a  synagogue  over  the  spot 
where,  according  to  tradition,  Elijah  once  lived,  and  where 
Elisha  and  Hazael  met.  It  is  two  miles  from  the  city,  in  a 
village  called  Jobar.  It  is  worthy  of  note  that  the  village 
is  inhabited  by  Mohammedans,  and  that  the  Jews  have  not, 
and,  so  far  as  is  known,  never  had  house  or  land  there  ex¬ 
cept  the  synagogue.  There  must  be  some  truth  in  the  tra¬ 
dition,  otherwise  the  Jews  could  scarcely  have  acquired  an 
interest  in  a  remote  spot  in  a  country  which  their  forefa¬ 
thers  never  possessed.  I  have  often  ridden  out  to  Jobar.  It 
is  a  sweet,  quiet  ride.  The  winding  lanes  are  shaded  by 
the  spreading  boughs  of  magnificent  walnuts,  and  lined  with 
blooming  orchards. 

“  Here  the  vines 

Wed  each  her  elm,  and  o’er  the  golden  grain 
Hang  their  luxuriant  clusters,  chequering 
The  sunshine.” 

Here  and  there  the  deep,  swift  Abana  shoots  out  from  a 
thicket  of  -weeping  willoTVS,  and  dashes  in  snowy  sheets  of 
foam  over  an  old  weir.  Canals  cross  and  recross  the  path, 
fringed  with  tall  reeds  and  long  sedgy  grass,  and  spanned 
by  rustic  bridges  that  rock  and  creak  beneath  the  horses’ 
feet.  Jobar  is  a  favourite  resort  of  wealthy  Jews,  male  and 
female.  It  is  their  park  and  their  cafe.  There  they  spend 
their  long  summer  afternoons,  often  the  entire  night  under 
bowers  of  vine  and  jasmine.  Not  unfrequently  the  groves 
resound  with  mirth,  and  revelry,  and  song.  Strange  mode 
this  in  which  to  celebrate  the  memory  and  honour  the 
shrines  of  Israel’s  great  prophets ! 

The  enmity  of  Damascus  to  the  kingdom  of  J udah  brought 
about  its  own  destruction.  The  Jews,  unable  to  contend 
with  so  powerful  a  foe,  bought  the  alliance  of  Assyria. 
Damascus  was  attacked  and  captured,  its  people  were  car¬ 
ried  away  to  the  banks  of  the  Kir,  and  an  Assyrian  colony 
placed  in  their  room.  Damascus  thus  lost,  and  lost  for 
ever,  its  independence.  Then  “the  kingdom  was  taken 


347 


story  of  Paul’s  conversion. 

away  from  Damascus,”  “Damascus  was  taken  away  from 
being  a  city”  (Isaiah  xvii.  1-3). 

Paul’s  conversion. 

Eight  centuries  pass — eight  centuries  of  wars  and  revolu¬ 
tions.  Damascus  has  become  a  Roman  city.  But  it  is 
temporarily  held  by  a  rebel  prince,  Aretas,  king  of  Arabia. 
It  is  a  time  of  national  disturbance,  for  the  empire  has  been 
suddenly  left  without  a  head.  It  is  a  time,  too,  of  grave 
anxiety  and  fear  among  the  members  of  the  little  Christian 
Church  in  the  city.  Saul  of  Tarsus,  having  dipped  his 
hands  in  the  blood  of  the  first  Christian  martyr,  and  having 
well-nigh  extinguished  the  Church  in  the  Holy  City,  is  on 
his  way  to  Damascus,  “  breathing  threatenings  and  slaugh¬ 
ter  against  the  disciples  of  the  Lord”  (Acts  ix.  1).  But 
Jesus  whom  he  persecuted  met  him  on  the  way,  and  when 
he  enters  the  city  he  is  no  longer  the  proud,  ruthless  perse¬ 
cutor  ;  he  is  the  humble,  blind,  conscience-stricken  disciple, 
breathing  the  prayer,  “  Lord,  what  wouldest  thou  have  me 
to  do?” 

This  miracle  of  mercy  and  of  power  made  Damascus 
“  holy  ground.”  It  exalted  it  to  an  honoured  place  by  the 
side  of  Bethlehem  and  Nazareth,  Jerusalem  and  Hermon. 
The  Son  of  God  was  there,  if  not  in  the  flesh,  in  glory  and 
in  power,  appearing  to  Paul  as  unto  “  one  born  out  of  due 
time  ”  (1  Cor.  xv.  8).  In  Damascus  the  great  missionary  of 
the  Gentiles  first  preached  the  gospel  (Acts  ix.  19,  20). 
There  he  first  experienced  the  bitterness  of  the  persecution 
he  had  himself  been  instrumental  in  kindling.  He  became 
the  object  of  special  hatred  to  his  infatuated  countrymen. 
His  labours  in  the  city  roused  the  indignation  of  the  Jews, 
and  the  success  of  his  evangelistic  work  in  Arabia,  Aretas’ 
hereditary  kingdom,  excited  the  suspicions  and  fears  of  the 
rulers,  so  that  “the  governor  under  Aretas  the  king  kept 
the  city  of  the  Damascenes  with  a  garrison,  desirous  to  ap¬ 
prehend  me  i  and  through  a  window,  in  a  basket,  was  I  let 


848 


NORTHERN  BORDER  LAND. 


down  by  the  wall,  and  escaped  his  hands  ”  (2  Cor.  xi.  32, 
33). 

Tradition  has  localized  every  event  in  Paul’s  story, — the 
scene  of  the  conversion,  the  “  street  called  Straight,”  the 
house  of  Judas,  the  spot  where  the  angel  appeared  to  Ana¬ 
nias,  the  window  in  the  city  wall, — all  are  pointed  out. 
Time  after  time  I  have  visited  them.  Most  of  them  may  be 
apocryphal,  some  of  them  are  unquestionably  so ;  but  in  this 
“  city  of  the  infidels,”  they  have  all  an  intense  interest  for 
the  Christian.  They  rouse  him  to  a  sense  of  the  reality  of 
great  events,  and  of  the  power  of  great  principles  and 
truths,  which  he  is  only  too  apt  to  forget.  The  Straight 
Street  is  real.  There  can  be  no  doubt  about  it.  And  on 
the  old  wall  I  have  seen  many  a  projecting  chamber,  and 
many  a  latticed  window  from  which  a  friendly  hand  could 
“  let  down  ”  a  fugitive. 

ASPECT  OF  THE  CITY. 

How  beautiful  for  situation  is  Damascus !  Its  own  poets 
have  called  it  “  The  pearl  of  the  East.”  The  view  of  the 
city  and  plain  from  the  brow  of  Lebanon  is  unequalled  in 
Syria,  —  probably  it  is  unsurpassed  in  the  world.  One 
gazes  upon  it  enraptured  when  before  him;  and  when  far 
away,  though  long  years  have  intervened,  memory  dwells 
upon  it  as  upon  some  bright  and  joyous  vision  of  childhood’s 
happy  days.  Forty  centuries  have  passed  over  the  city, 
yet  it  retains  the  freshness  of  youth.  Its  palaces  look  as 
gorgeous,  its  houses  as  gay,  its  gold-tipped  minarets  and 
domes  as  bright  as  if  only  completed  yesterday.  Its  gar¬ 
dens  and  orchards  and  far-reaching  groves,  rich  in  foliage 
and  blossoms,  wrap  the  city  round  like  a  mantle  of  green 
velvet  powdered  with  pearls.  Its  rivers,  better  yet  than 
all  the  waters  of  Israel,  having  burst  their  mountain  bar¬ 
riers,  send  a  thousand  streams  meandering  over  its  plain, 
sparkling  in  the  sunlight,  and  spreading  verdure  and  beau¬ 
ty  along  their  course. 


THE  STREET  SCENES  OF  DAMASCUS. 


349 


The  city  looks  so  peaceful  there,  reposing  in  its  evergreen 
bower,  far  removed  from  the  din  of  commerce,  and  the  rude 
whirl  of  modern  life,  and  the  jarring  turmoil  of  the  world’s 
politics,  that  one  would  think  it  had  never  felt  the  shock  of 
war,  that  its  soil  had  never  been  polluted  by  crime,  and  that 
Abana  and  Pharpar  had  never  run  red  with  the  blood  of 
thousands  slaughtered  mercilessly. 

Distance  lends  enchantment  to  the  view.  To  me  Damas¬ 
cus  looked  like  a  vision  of  Paradise  when  I  first  saw  it, — all 
peace  and  beauty.  The  vision  has  been  rudely  dissipated, — 
it  vanished  the  moment  I  crossed  the  city  gate.  Without , 
nature  smiled  joyously,  the  landscape  was  bathed  in  the 
ruddy  light  of  the  declining  sun;  the  apricot  orchards 
seemed  to  blush  at  their  own  surpassing  loveliness,  and  the 
gentle  breezes  that  rustled  softly  through  the  feathery  tops 
of  the  palms  were  laden  with  the  perfume  of  the  rose  and 
the  violet.  Within ,  how  great,  how  painful  was  the  con¬ 
trast  !  Houses,  mosques,  streets,  all  the  works  of  man,  in 
fact,  bore  the  marks  of  neglect  and  decay ;  and  man  himself 
seemed  to  sit  there  mourning  moodily  over  waning  glory. 
The  houses  are  shapeless  piles  of  sun-dried  bricks  and  wood, 
and  sadly  out  of  repair ;  the  streets  are  narrow,  crooked  and 
filthy,  paved  with  big  rough  stones,  and  half  covered  with 
ragged  mats  and  withered  branches.  Scores  of  miserable 
dogs  lie  in  the  dust,  too  lazy  to  bark,  or  even  to  crawl  from 
under  the  horse’s  feet.  In  little  stalls  like  shelves,  along  the 
sides  of  these  lanes,  squat  ranges  of  long-bearded,  white- 
turbaned,  sallow-visaged  men,  telling  their  beads,  and  ming¬ 
ling  with  muttered  prayers  to  Allah  curses  deep  and  deadly 
on  the  infidels  who  dare  to  cross  their  path  or  enter  their 
holy  city.  But  the  oddest  sight  the  stranger’s  eye  falls  on 
are  the  women.  He  can  scarcefy  tell  at  first  what  they  are. 
Not  a  feature,  not  a  member  is  visible,  except  the  two  feet, 
encased  in  quaint-looking  yellow  boots.  Head,  arms,  hands, 
body  — the  whole  person,  in  short,  is  wrapt  up  in  a  thing 
like  a  winding-sheet.  Thus  arrayed  they  stalk  about  like 


350 


NORTHERN  BORDER  LAND. 


ghosts  come  back  from  another  world  to  torment  those  who 
doomed  them  on  earth  to  lives  of  slavery. 

In  the  centre  of  the  city  the  houses  are  better,  and  the  ba¬ 
zaars  richer.  The  people  that  crowd  them,  too,  are  better 
dressed,  and  their  costumes  more  varied.  In  fact,  nearly 
all  the  costumes  of  the  world  are  there,  and  one  is  never 
tired  looking  and  laughing  at  them. 

Damascus  has  been  often  described.  Nearly  every  nook 
and  corner  has  been  explored,  and  its  wonders  laid  before 
Europe  by  the  pen,  the  pencil,  or  the  photograph.  Every¬ 
body  now  knows  all  about  the  internal  splendour  of  its  pal¬ 
aces,  and  the  fabled  beauty  of  their  inmates.  I  shall  not 
here  add  a  word  to  what  has  been  written  on  these  sub¬ 
jects.  I  have  another  tale  to  tell — a  sad  tale,  but  one 
which  illustrates  the  character  of  the  people  who  now  rule 
this  unhappy  land ;  and  which  shows  how  vividly  its  future 
doom  was  pictured  before  the  eyes  of  God’s  prophets,  in  an¬ 
cient  days.  The  recent  massacres  are  but  fulfilments  of 
Ezekiel’s  predictions :  UI  will  bring  the  worst  of  the  heathen , 

and  they  shall  possess  their  houses . Destruction  com - 

eth  ;  and  they  shall  seek  peace ,  and  there  shall  be  none.” 
(vii.  24,  25). 

THE  MASSACRE  OP  1860. 

A  sad  change  has  taken  place  in  Damascus  even  since  I 
was  there.  A  whole  quarter  of  the  city  has  been  burned, 
and  nearly  six  thousand  of  its  inhabitants  butchered.  This 
terrible  tragedy,  unparalleled  since  the  days  of  Tamerlane, 
demands  a  passing  notice ;  and  its  authors  and  abettors  de¬ 
serve  to  be  held  up  to  the  execration  of  generations  to  come. 
The  Christians  of  the  city  have  been  all  but  annihilated ;  and 
for  no  other  reason  than  that  they  were  Christians.  Their 
bones  lie  unburied  amid  the  ashes  of  their  homes ;  and  their 
blood,  which  has  sunk  into  the  ground,  cries,  if  not  for  ven¬ 
geance,  at  least  for  justice,  upon  that  race  of  tyrant  fanatics, 
who  terminated  ages  of  unceasing  persecution  by  a  whole¬ 
sale  massacre. 


THE  MASSACRE  OF  DAMASCUS. 


361 


On  the  morning  of  Monday,  July  9th,  1860,  Damascus 
contained  some  twenty-three  thousand  Christians,  including 
seven  thousand  refugees  from  Lebanon.  The  Christians  oc¬ 
cupied  a  distinct  quarter  of  the  city,  near  the  East  Gate, 
and  extending  on  both  sides  of  the  Straight  Street.  In  in¬ 
telligence  and  enterprise  they  were  far  in  advance  of  the 
Mohammedans.  They  were  peaceable  and  respectful  in  de¬ 
meanour.  Most  of  them,  imbued  with  hereditary  fear, 
cringed  before  the  proud  Muslems  who  had  so  long  ruled 
them.  They  had  taken  no  part  in  the  struggle  between 
Druse  and  Maronite.  They  were  in  no  way  connected  with 
the  mountain  tribes.  There  was  not  a  single  Druse  in  the 
city ;  and  the  Christians  had  no  quarrel  with  their  Muslem 
fellow-citizens. 

For  a  week  or  two  previous  threats  had  been  uttered ;  and 
the  Christians,  unarmed  and  helpless,  began  to  anticipate 
evil.  For  several  days  they  had  shut  themselves  up  in 
their  houses,  hoping  thus  to  escape  insult  and  injury.  It 
was  in  vain.  About  two  o’clock  on  the  day  referred  to,  an 
excited  mob  was  seen  by  a  resident  Englishman  proceeding 
toward  the  Christian  quarter,  shouting  their  well-known 
war-cry,  TJllahu  Akbar  !  He  guessed  their  purpose,  and  he 
tried  to  stop  them.  He  was  known  widely,  and  respected 
by  all  classes,  yet  his  life  would  have  fallen  a  sacrifice  to 
his  humanity,  had  not  a  friend — a  Mohammedan  of  rank — 
removed  him  from  the  street. 

The  mob  rapidly  increased.  A  few  were  armed  with  old 
muskets  and  pistols;  others  had  daggers,  axes,  clubs,  and 
such  rude  weapons  as  first  came  to  hand.  Boys  and  women 
were  there ;  the  latter  urging  on  the  men.  Having  reached 
the  Straight  Street,  on  the  borders  of  the  Christian  quarter, 
they,  after  a  brief  pause,  made  a  rush  upon  the  house  of  the 
Russian  consul — a  Greek,  who  had  become  especially  ob¬ 
noxious  to  the  fanatics.  The  door  was  strong,  but  it  soon 
yielded  to  blows  of  axes.  The  inmates,  paralyzed  by  fear, 
did  not  attempt  resistance.  Every  male  was  instantly  mur- 


352 


NORTHERN  BORDER  LAND. 


dered.  From  room  to  room  the  fiends  ran  in  search  of  the 
consul  who  had  gone  out  a  short  time  before.  When  they 
could  not  find  him,  they  seized  the  women,  dragged  them 
into  the  open  court,  and  there  treated  them  with  the  most 
inhuman  barbarity.  They  then  pillaged  the  house  and  set 
it  on  fire. — This  was  the  first  act  in  the  tragedy. 

House  after  house  was  now  broken  open.  The  male  in¬ 
habitants — old  men  and  infants — were  all  murdered;  the 
females  outraged;  valuables  carried  off;  and  the  torch  ap¬ 
plied.  Night  came,  but  the  carnage  did  not  cease.  The 
flames  of  the  burning  houses  lighted  up  the  whole  city,  re¬ 
vealing  in  every  street  and  lane  scenes  of  brutal  outrage 
and  savage  cruelty,  such  as  the  world  has  seldom  witnessed. 

A  large  body  of  the  more  respectable  Christians,  seeing 
that  nothing  less  than  their  total  extermination  was  aimed 
at,  left  their  homes  and  sought  an  asylum  in  the  houses  of 
Muslem  friends.  But  they  soon  found  that  fanaticism  ig¬ 
nores  friendship.  All  were  received  with  coldness;  some 
were  driven  away ;  and  not  a  few  were  handed  over  to  the 
mob.  A  considerable  number,  however,  contrived  to  reach 
the  Castle,  which  was  occupied  by  a  Turkish  garrison ;  and 
eventually  most  of  the  women  and  children  found  a  refuge 
there,  or  in  the  house  of  Abd-el-Kader. 

The  outbreak  was  known  to  the  Pasha  from  the  com¬ 
mencement.  He  had  been  warned  of  the  danger  long  ere 
it  occurred.  A  dozen  energetic  police  could  have  quelled  it 
when  the  Russian  consulate  was  attacked.  Fifty  soldiers 
could  have  quelled  the  mob  at  any  moment  during  the  mas¬ 
sacre.  On  the  first  evening  a  company  of  Turkish  “  regu¬ 
lars,”  with  some  native  police,  were  sent  to  the  scene  of  the 
outbreak,  but  they  at  once  fraternized  with  the  mob.  A 
British  subject,  who  was  an  eye-witness  of  the  leading 
events  during  that  reign  of  terror,  saw  soldiers  and  citizens 
together  plundering,  burning,  and  murdering.  When  re¬ 
sistance  was  offered  in  any  house/  it  was  set  on  fire ;  and 
when  the  wretched  inmates,  old  or  young,  men  or  women, 


MURDER  OF  MR.  GRAHAM. 


353 


attempted  to  escape,  the  soldiers  drove  them  back  into  the 
flames  with  the  points  of  their  bayonets.  When  the  troops 
and  mob  fraternized,  the  doom  of  the  Christians  was  sealed. 
Before  that  time  only  a  small  number  of  the  lowest  rabble 
had  taken  part  in  the  outbreak ;  now  the  fanatical  of  every 
class,  high  and  low,  rich  and  poor,  rushed  to  the  onslaught. 
To  prevent  the  possibility  of  resistance,  a  united  plan  of  at¬ 
tack  was  organized.  A  strong  breeze  was  blowing  from 
the  west ;  they  began  at  that  side  of  the  Christian  quar¬ 
ter,  and  burned  all  before  them.  F or  three  days  and  three 
nights  this  terrible  work  of  pillage,  burning,  and  slaughter 
continued.  It  ceased  only  when  every  article  of  value  was 
carried  off,  every  house  in  ashes,  and  every  male  either  dead 
or  in  a  place  of  refuge. 

Among  the  victims  was  the  Rev.  William  Graham,  mis¬ 
sionary  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  Ireland.  At  the 
commencement  of  the  outbreak,  he  saw  a  young  Christian 
lying  in  the  street,  wounded  and  dying.  Thoughtless  of 
danger,  he  ran  for  a  surgeon ;  but  he  was  soon  assailed  by 
the  mob  and  forced  to  fly  for  his  life.  He  took  refuge  in  the 
house  of  a  Muslem,  called  Mustapha  Agha,  chief  of  the  po¬ 
lice — a  man  who  had  gained  his  wealth  and  his  office 
through  the  influence  of  the  English  consul.  The  Agha 
would  scarcely  admit  him;  and  when  at  length  he  forced 
his  way  in,  pursued  by  a  blood-thirsty  mob,  he  found  that 
Mustapha  and  his  police  were  among  the  most  active  agents 
of  destruction.  During  the  night,  Mr.  Graham  escaped, 
and  found  a  temporary  asylum  with  another  Muslem.  It 
appears  that  in  the  course  of  the  following  day,  Mustapha 
Agha  heard  where  Mr.  Graham  was  concealed,  and  sent  a 
number  of  his  police  with  a  traitorous  message,  that  they 
had  orders  from  the  Pasha  to  escort  him,  and  other  refugees, 
to  the  house  of  the  English  consul.  Under  this  escort  Gra¬ 
ham  and  a  number  of  others  set  out ;  but  with  one  exception 
they  never  reached  their  destination.  Poor  Graham  fell  in 
the  open  street,  pierced  by  the  bullets  of  his  ruffian  escort ! 


354 


NORTHERN  BORDER  LAND. 


The  events  which  followed  the  massacres,  and  the  pro¬ 
longed  inquiries  and  discussions  of  commissioners,  are  well 
known.  The  wily  Turks  succeeded  as  usual  in  their  crafty 
policy  of  arraying  against  each  other  the  rival  ambassadors 
and  governments  of  Europe.  The  Christian  quarter  of  Da¬ 
mascus  is  still  a  blackened  ruin.  Merchants  once  rich  and 
prosperous,  are  dependants  on  charity.  Yast  numbers  of 
widows  and  orphans  are  homeless,  penniless  wanderers. 
The  Turkish  Government  by  treachery  and  cruelty  without 
a  parallel,  have  gained  their  object.  They  have  all  but  an¬ 
nihilated  Christian  influence  in  Syria.  They  have  destroyed 
the  prestige  of  European  power  in  that  country,  and  they 
have  so  far  prepared  the  way  for  carrying  out  their  own 
destructive  policy  without  fear  of  internal  opposition. 

When  will  English  statesmen  open  their  eyes  to  the  true 
character  of  the  Turks  ?  When  will  they  turn  their  atten¬ 
tion  to  the  real  source  of  all  the  troubles  and  calamities  of 
unhappy  Syria?  The  massacre  of  1860  was  no  sudden  or 
unexpected  ebullition  of  popular  fury ;  it  was  long  premedi¬ 
tated  and  skilfully  planned.  Mohammedans  were  its  pro¬ 
jectors.  The  first  impulse  was  given  from  Constantinople. 
Turkish  officials  in  Syria,  high  and  low,  fostered  the  fanat¬ 
ical  spirit  of  the  populace,  and  even  when  the  guilt  of  these 
men  was  proved,  every  possible  effort  was  made  in  high 
places  to  screen  them  from  the  punishment  so  justly  due  to 
their  crimes. 

Our  own  noble  commissioner,  Lord  Dufferin,  acted  in  his 
difficult  and  delicate  position  with  an  energy  and  an  en¬ 
lightened  zeal  worthy  of  all  praise.  In  him  England  had  a 
fitting  representative.  To  him  the  Christian  sects  in  Syria, 
and  the  Druses  also,  owe  a  debt  of  gratitude  which  they 
can  never  repay.  He  took  a  wise  and  statesmanlike  view 
of  Syria’s  dangers  and  wants ;  and  had  his  policy  been  adopt¬ 
ed  it  would  have  gone  far  to  secure  the  lasting  peace,  and 
promote  the  permanent  prosperity  of  that  unhappy  country. 


“the  street  called  straight.”  355 

r 

HOLT  PLACES  OF  DAMASCUS. 

In  and  around  Damascus  tradition  has  located  the  scenes 
of  many  events  recorded  in  sacred  history.  A  few  of  these 
are  worthy  of  notice,  as  tending  to  illustrate  Bible  history. 

The  Straight  Street. — “Arise,  and  go  into  the  street 
which  is  called  Straight ,  and  inquire  in  the  house  of  Judas 
for  one  called  Saul  of  Tarsus”  (Acts  vii.  11).  The  old  city 
— the  nucleus  of  Damascus — is  oval  in  shape,  and  surround¬ 
ed  by  a  wall,  the  foundations  of  which  are  Roman,  if  not  ear¬ 
lier,  and  the  upper  part  a  patch-work  of  all  subsequent  ages. 
Its  greatest  diameter  is  marked  by  the  Straight  Street , 
which  is  an  English  mile  in  length.  At  its  east  end  is  Bab 
Shurky ,  “the  East  Gate,”  a  fine  Roman  portal,  having  a 
central  and  two  side  arches.  The  central  and  southern 
arches  have  been  walled  up  for  more  than  eight  centuries, 
and  the  northern  now  forms  the  only  entrance  to  the  city.  In 
front  of  it  are  the  massive  remains  of  a  tower  built  in  the 
early  days  of  Muslem  rule.  The  present  appearance  of  the 
gateway  is  picturesque  though  dilapidated.  The  crumbling 
Saracenic  battlements  and  wooden  minaret  contrasting  well 
with  the  massive  simplicity  of  the  Roman  architecture.  In 
the  Roman  age,  and  down  to  the  time  of  the  Mohammedan 
conquest  (a.d.  634)  a  noble  street  ran  in  a  straight  line  from 
the  gate  westward  through  the  city.  It  was  divided  by 
Corinthian  colonnades  into  three  avenues,  opposite  to  the 
three  portals.  A  modern  street  runs  in  the  line  of  the  old 
one ;  but  it  is  narrow  and  irregular.  Though  many  of  the 
columns  remain,  they  are  mostly  hidden  by  the  houses  and 
shops.  This  is  “the  street  called  Straight ,”  along  which 
Paul  was  led  by  the  hand,  and  in  which  was  the  house  of 
Judas,  where  he  lodged. 

The  Great  Mosque. — Tradition  has  placed  in  one  of  the 
crypts  of  this  vast  structure  “the  head  of  John  the  Bap¬ 
tist’’  and  has  thus  made  it  “  the  sanctuarv  of  Damascus.” 
’  .  .  *■  . 
The  building  was  originally  a  temple,  erected  on  the  plan 


356 


NORTHERN  BORDER  LAND. 


of  that  at  Jerusalem.  In  the  fourth  century  it  was  remod¬ 
elled  and  made  the  Cathedral  Church;  and  in  the  eighth 
century  it  was  appropriated  by  the  Mohammedans.  Its 
form  is  that  of  a  church  or  basilica,  with  nave  and  aisles 
divided  by  Corinthian  columns.  In  the  centre  is  a  small 
dome ;  and  at  one  side  is  a  spacious  cloistered  court,  flagged 
with  marble,  and  ornamented  with  fountains.  It  is  the  most 
conspicuous  building  in  the  city,  its  dome  and  three  lofty 
minarets  being  seen  from  a  great  distance.  Near  it  is  the 
castle  or  citadel,  a  huge  pile  founded  in  the  days  of  the 
city’s  power,  and  now  fast  falling  to  ruin.  Within  its  walls 
many  of  the  Christians  found  an  asylum  during  the  massacre. 

Place  of  PauVs  Conversion. — A  tradition  as  old  as  the 
time  of  the  Crusades  locates  this  “holy  place”  about  ten 
miles  south-west  of  the  city,  near  a  village  called  Kaukab. 
In  the  spring  of  1858  I  made  a  pilgrimage  to  it.  It  was  a 
sunny  day,  and  all  nature  looked  bright  and  beautiful 
The  ride  was  charming ;  at  first  through  luxuriant  gardens, 
and  orchards,  and  groves,  where — 

“  The  vines  in  light  festoons 
From  tree  to  tree,  the  trees  in  avenues, 

And  every  avenue  a  covered  walk, 

Hung  with  black  clusters.” 

From  a  sombre  olive  grove  I  emerged  on  the  open  plain, 
and  soon  found  the  line  of  the  ancient  road — the  road  along: 
which  Paul  must  have  come.  It  crosses  a  low  ridge  which 
separates  the  valleys  of  the  Abana  and  Pharpar ;  and  on  the 
top  of  the  ridge  is  the  scene  of  the  conversion.  There  ap¬ 
peared  to  me  to  be  much  probability  in  the  tradition.  At 
this  spot  the  traveller  from  the  south  obtains  his  first  view 
of  Damascus.  On  gaining  it  Paul  saw  before  him  the  city 
to  which  he  was  bound.  His  fiery  zeal  would  naturally  be 
inflamed  by  the  sight,  and  anew  he  would  there  “  breathe 
out  threatenings  and  slaughter  against  the  disciples  of  the 
Lord.”  Would  it  not  seem  that  that  was  the  time  when 
his  proud  spirit  was  humbled ;  and  when  the  passions  of  the 


SCENE  OF  PAUL’S  CONVERSION. 


357 


fanatic  were  quenched  for  ever  by  the  flood  of  divine  grace? 
“As  he  journeyed,  he  came  near  Damascus  •  and  suddenly 
there  shined  round  about  him  a  light  from  heaven”  (Acts 
ix.  3). 

I  could  not  resist  the  belief  that  I  there  stood  upon  the 
very  scene  of  the  miracle.  But  be  this  as  it  may,  the  fea¬ 
tures  of  the  landscape  were  the  same  as  Paul  saw ; — on  the 
left  rose  Hermon  in  all  its  majesty,  a  spotless  pyramid  of 
snow ;  the  long  range  of  Anti-Lebanon,  gray  and  bleak, 
stretching  eastward  to  the  horizon ;  the  broad  plain  in  front, 
with  its  many-tinted  foliage ;  all  around  little  villages  em¬ 
bowered  in  blooming  orchards;  and  away  in  the  distance 
the  bright  buildings  of  the  city.  The  same  figures,  too, 
gave  life  to  the  landscape ; — long  strings  of  camels  bearing 
the  wheat  of  Bashan ;  cavaliers  from  the  desert  armed  with 
sword  and  spear ;  peasants  in  the  fields  driving  their  yokes 
of  oxen  with  sharp  goads — goads  which  illustrated,  if  they 
did  not  suggest,  the  words  of  the  Lord,  “  It  is  hard  for  thee 
to  kick  against  the  goads”  The  same  cloudless  sky  was 
there;  and  the  same  sun,  pouring  down  a  flood  of  light 
on  city,  plain,  and  mountain.  “At  mid-day  suddenly  a 
great  light,”  shone  from  heaven ;  and  the  greatness  of  that 
light  those  only  can  know  who  have  seen  and  felt  a  Syrian 
sun  shining  in  its  strength,  and  who  remember  that  the 
light  which  shone  on  Paul  was  “  above  the  brightness  of 
the  sun”  (Acts  xxvi.  13). 

The  Sanctuary  of  Abraham ,  or  Makam  Ibrahim  as  the 
Arabs  call  it,  is  three  miles  north  of  Damascus,  at  the  open¬ 
ing  of  a  wild  ravine  which  runs  far  up  into  the  heart  of 
Anti-Lebanon.  It  is  a  rude  mosque  built  on  the  side  of  a 
naked  cliff,  its  inner  chamber  opening  into  a  deep  cleft. 
Several  legends  are  attached  to  it.  Some  say  Abraham 
was  born  there;  others,  that  he  worshipped  God  at  that 
spot  when  he  turned  back  from  the  pursuit  of  the  kings  who 
had  plundered  Sodom  (Gen.  xiv.  15) ;  others,  that  he  had  an 
altar  there  when  he  was  King  of  Damascus ;  but,  probably, 


358 


NORTHERN  BORDER  LAND. 


the  oldest  reference  to  it  is  that  which  Josephus  quotes 
from  the  historian  Nicolas : — “  The  name  of  Abraham  is  stiH 
famous  at  Damascus ;  and  a  village  is  shown  there  which 
takes  its  name  from  the  patriarch,  being  called  the  6  Habita¬ 
tion  of  Abraham’  ”  (Ant.  i.  7.  2). 

llelbon. — The  prophet  says  of  Tyre,  “  Damascus  was  thy 
merchant  ....  in  the  wine  of  llelbon  and  white  wool  ” 
(Ezek.  xxvii.  18).  At  the  head  of  the  ravine,  at  whose 
mouth  is  the  “  Habitation  of  Abraham,”  lies  the  village  of 
Helbon.  Its  narrow  valley  is  shut  in  by  steep  bare  cliffs, 
and  long  shelving  banks,  from  two  to  three  thousand  feet  in 
height.  The  bottom  of  the  glen  is  filled  with  luxuriant  or¬ 
chards;  and  terraced  vineyards  extend  far  up  the  moun¬ 
tain  slopes,  the  vines  often  clinging  to  spots  where  one 
would  think  no  human  foot  could  rest.  The  village  con¬ 
sists  of  about  fifty  substantial  houses,  clustering  round  an 
old  mosque,  from  beneath  which  bursts  a  noble  fountain. 
Over  the  fountain  is  a  porch  resting  on  antique  columns; 
and  a  hollowed  stone,  with  a  Greek  legend  bearing  the 
name  of  the  “  Great  King  Markos,”  receives  the  water. 
Along  the  terraces  and  in  the  valley  below  are  extensive 
ruins.  This  is  the  Helbon  of  Ezekiel;  and  these  are  the 
vineyards  which  produced  the  wine  famed  alike  in  the  marts 
of  Tyre  and  in  the  court  of  Persia. 

The  Tomb  of  Abel. — The  Damascenes  believe  that  the 
Garden  of  Eden  was  situated  in  their  own  plain,  and  that 
the  clay  of  which  Adam  was  formed  was  taken  from  the 
bank  of  the  Abana.  It  is  not  strange,  therefore,  that  they 
should  have  located  the  tomb  of  Abel  in  the  same  region. 
On  a  lofty  cliff  overhanging  the  sublime  glen  of  the  Abana, 
about  fifteen  miles  north  of  Damascus,  is  the  reputed  tomb. 
It  measures  thirty  feet  in  length.  Beside  it  are  the  ruins  of 
a  small  temple.  Looking  down  from  that  dizzy  height  one 
sees,  in  and  around  a  modern  village,  the  ruins  of  an  ancient 
city ;  while  the  dark  openings  and  fi^ades,  which  thickly 
dot  the  opposite  cliff,  mark  its  necropolis.  In  this  city  one 


THE  TOMB  OF  ABEL. 


359 


can  trace  the  probable  origin  of  the  curious  tradition  of 
AbeVs  tomb.  The  city,  as  we  learn  from  a  Latin  inscnp 
tion  on  the  side  of  an  old  excavated  road,  was  called  AbUa  ; 
and  it  was  not  difficult  for  imaginative  Arabs  to  form  out 
of  this  name  the  story  of  Abel’s  tomb. 

But  Abila  itself  has  some  sacred  interest.  It  was  the 
capital  of  that  province  of  Abilene  of  which  Lysanias  was 
tetrarch  when  John  the  Baptist  entered  on  his  public  minis¬ 
try  (Luke  iii.  1).  The  site  is  singularly  wild  and  romantic. 
Just  above  it  the  Abana  cuts  through  the  central  chain  of 
Anti-Lebanon ;  but  as  it  makes  a  sharp  turn,  one  can  only 
see  a  vast  recess  in  the  mountain  side,  backed  by  a  semi¬ 
circle  of  cliffs  from  three  to  four  hundred  feet  high.  Within 
this  recess,  looking  out  on  the  windings  of  the  glen  below, 
lie  the  ruins  of  Abila ;  and  in  the  rocks  and  precipices  over¬ 
head  are  its  tombs. 


16 


I 


APPENDIX. 


A. 

HE  following  estimate  of  the  numbers  murdered  in  Syria  during 
the  massacres  of  1860,  was  drawn  up  with  great  care  by  the 
Rev.  S.  Robson  of  Damascus,  and  kindly  given  to  me.  It  is 
much  lower  than  my  own  estimate  founded  on  official  docu¬ 
ments,  and  letters  from  friends  during,  and  immediately  after,  the  insur¬ 
rection.  It  is  probably  nearer  the  truth  than  mine,  for,  during  the  excite¬ 
ment  of  those  fearful  scenes,  it  was  impossible,  even  for  the  soberest  minds, 
to  avoid  exaggeration ;  and  very  many  who  had  succeeded  in  escaping,  or 
secreting  themselves,  were  at  first  supposed  to  have  been  killed.  I  have 
heard  of  one  who  remained  for  four  days  in  a  well ;  of  another  who  lay  for 
a  considerable  time  under  a  heap  of  slain  ;  of  several  who  apostatized. 

No  estimate  of  the  numbers  actually  murdered  can  give  an  adequate  idea 
of  the  terrible  results  of  those  massacres.  Thousands  who  escaped  the 
sword  died  of  fright,  of  famine,  or  of  subsequent  privations.  Those  mur¬ 
dered  were  men,  mostly  in  the  prime  of  life,  the  only  stay  and  support  of 
wives  and  children.  Their  houses  were  burned  ;  their  property  was  swept 
away ;  all  means  of  support  were  taken  from  them.  The  survivors  were 
driven  forth,  homeless,  penniless,  and  in  some  cases  naked  and  wounded. 
Many  of  the  women  and  girls,  too,  were,  according  to  the  usual  Muslem 
practice,  made  the  slaves  of  their  brutal  persecutors. 

Mr.  Robson’s  careful  statement  will  be  read  with  much  interest : — 

“  After  the  massacre  in  Damascus  the  clergy  and  chief  people  of  each 
sect  made  out  a  list  of  the  persons  belonging  to  their  community  who  wero 
killed,  as  far  as  it  was  possible  to  ascertain  their  names.  Those  lists  con¬ 
tained  the  names  of  about  twelve  hundred  of  the  known  inhabitants  of  the  city . 
It  is  certain,  therefore,  that  that  number,  at  least  of  persons  permanently 
resident  in  Damascus,  perished  during  the  three  days  of  the  massacre. 


364 


APPENDIX. 


“  But  besides  these  there  was  in  the  city  at  the  time  of  the  massacre,  aa 
at  all  times,  a  considerable  number  of  strangers,  who  were  brought  by  some 
ousiness,  and  were  staying  for  a  longer  or  shorter  time  in  lodgings  in  various 
parts  of  the  city  —  in  the  Mohammedan  as  well  as  in  the  Christian  quarter. 
Of  these  some  were  from  other  towns  or  districts  of  Syria,  some  were  Syri¬ 
ans  from  Mesopotamia,  a  few  were  from  places  farther  east,  a  few  were 
Copts,  and  others  from  Egypt,  and  many  were  Armenians  from  Asia  Minor 
and  Constantinople.  It  is  impossible  to  ascertain  how  many  persons  of  this 
class  were  killed  in  the  massacre. 

“  Another  class  of  strangers  in  Damascus  at  the  time  of  the  massacre  con¬ 
sisted  of  the  Christian  inhabitants  of  the  surrounding  villages,  who  had  taken 
refuge  in  the  city  from  the  dangers  which  threatened  them  in  their  own 
homes.  Some  of  the  people  of  Hasbeiya  and  a  large  number  of  those  of 
Rasheiya,  Avho  had  escaped  from  the  massacres  in  those  towns,  fled  to  Da¬ 
mascus.  And  during  the  month  which  elapsed  between  those  massacres 
and  that  in  the  city,  the  Christians,  men,  women,  and  children,  fled  to  the 
city  from  all  the  villages  in  the  plain  of  Damascus,  and  from  most  of  those 
in  Hermon,  Wady  et-Teim,  and  Anti-Lebanon.  These  refugees  amounted 
to  several  thousands.  They  were  lodged  in  the  churches,  schools,  and  con¬ 
vents,  and  in  unoccupied  khans  and  houses,  and  they  were  daily  fed  by  the 
charity  of  their  co-rellgionists  in  the  city.  For  that  purpose  money  was 
collected  from  the  people  and  donations  were  made  from  the  church  funds. 
The  majority  of  these  refugees  were  of  the  Greek  Church.  Being  crowded 
together,  and  mostly  in  public  places  as  churches  and  schoolrooms,  a  very 
large  number  of  them  was  killed.  It  is  certain  that  in  proportion  to  their 
numbers  many  more  of  them  were  killed  than  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  city, 
but  there  were  no  means  of  ascertaining  the  exact  number  who  perished. 

“  The  opinion,  however,  of  those  best  able  to  judge  is  that  the  number 
of  strangers  killed  exceeded  that  of  the  inhabitants  who  perished.  The  best 
estimates  of  the  number  vary  from  thirteen  hundred  to  fifteen  hundred. 

“  I  am  sure,  therefore,  that  I  am  rather  below  than  above  the  truth  in 
saying  that  on  the  9th,  10th,  and  11th  of  July,  1860,  there  were  murdered  in 
Damascus  at  least  two  thousand  five  hundred  adult  male  Christians.  This  is 
the  conclusion  to  which  I  have  come  after  the  most  careful  inquiries. 

“  The  most  careful  estimates  put  down  the  number  massacred  in  the  castle 
of  Hasbeiya,  on  the  afternoon  of  the  11th  of  June,  at  about  twelve  hundred , 
and  the  number  similarly  massacred  on  the  same  day  in  the  castle  of  Rasheiya 
at  about  three  hundred  and  fifty. 

“Just  about  one  half  of  the  adult  males  of  Deir  el-Kamr  perished  in  the 
massacre  in  that  town.  The  most  exact  estimates  make  the  number  of 
killed  to  be  between  eleven  and  twelve  hundred. 

a  A  few  days  previous  to  the  massacres  of  Hasbeiya  and  Rasheiya  about 

- 


APPENDIX. 


365 


one  hundred  and  twenty  Christians  were  massacred  at  a  village  called  Kin&« 
kir,  on  the  west  border  of  the  Ilauran. 

“About  the  same  time  —  that  is  immediately  after  the  commencement  of 
the  war  in  Lebanon  —  a  large  body  of  Christians  fled  from  the  mountains  to 
take  refuge  in  Sidon.  The  gates  of  the  city  were  closed  against  them,  and 
they  were  obliged  to  remain  in  the  gardens.  There  they  were  attacked  by 
the  Druses  from  the  Lebanon,  and  the  Mohammedans  from  the  city,  and 
about  three  hundred  were  killed. 

“  These  are  all  the  massacres  ;  but  a  few  Christians  were  killed  in  almost 
every  village  in  which  there  were  Christian  inhabitants  around  Damascus  ; 
in  the  Ghutah,  Wady  el-Ajam,  Hermon,  Upper  Wady  et-Teim,  Lower  Wady 
et-Teim,  and  Anti-Lebanon,  and  also  in  the  Bekaa  and  Bel&d  Baalbek.  In 
some  villages  only  two  or  three,  in  many  six  or  eight  or  more,  and  in  a  few 
considerably  more  were  thus  murdered ;  but  no  accurate  estimate  of  the 
whole  number  is  known  to  me.  These  murders  were  very  deplorable  in 
themselves,  but  the  number  of  them  is  small  when  compared  with  that  of 
the  persons  killed  in  the  massacres,  and  I  omit  them  entirely  from  the  cal¬ 
culation  I  am  about  to  give.  I  omit  also,  of  course,  those  who  were  killed 
in  war. 

“  The  following  is  then  the  best  summary  I  can  give  : — 


Damascus . 

. about  2,500 

Hasbeiya . 

1,200 

Rasheiya . 

350 

Deir  el-Kamr . 

1,150 

Sidon . 

300 

Kin&kir . 

120 

5,620 

“  If  to  these  five  thousand  six  hundred  and  twenty  were  added  those 
killed,  as  noticed  above,  in  the  villages  of  Damascus,  Hermon,  Anti-Leb¬ 
anon,  and  the  Bekaa,  we  may  safely  say  that  about  six  thousand  adult  male 
Christians  were  murdered  in  cold  blood  in  the  massacres  in  Syria  in  June  and 
July  1860.” 


B. 

The  following  most  interesting  narrative  of  his  personal  sufferings,  and 
wonderful  escape  from  the  hands  of  a  blood-thirsty  mob,  was  written  by  Dr. 
Meshakah  in  August  1860,  for  and  at  the  request  of  the  Rev.  S.  Robson. 


866 


APPENDIX. 


The  original  document  in  Arabic  is  in  Mr.  Robson’s  possession,  and  he 
kindly  favoured  me  with  this  translation. 

I  may  state  that  Dr.  Meshakah  is  a  Protestant,  one  of  the  first  fruits  of 
the  Damascus  mission.  He  is  a  man  of  considerable  learning,  of  high 
talent,  and  of  good  social  Dosition.  He  was  held  in  the  highest  respect  by 
all  sects  and  classes ;  and  Deing  a  physician,  and  having  great  influence  with 
the  government  and  with  foreign  consuls,  he  had  many  opportunities  of  serv¬ 
ing  others.  These  he  never  failed  to  embrace,  and  numbers  of  Mohamme¬ 
dans  had  experienced  his  kindness.  Some  years  ago  he  was  appointed  vice- 
consul  for  the  United  States  of  America.  His  janizary,  a  Mohammedan, 
proved  faithful,  and  by  his  courage  and  devotion  was  the  means  of  saving 
his  life. 


TRANSLATION 

“  Narrative  of  what  happened  to  me  in  the  year  1860  : — 

“  In  the  morning  of  Monday  the  9th  of  July  the  city  was  perfectly  quiet, 
and  his  lordship,  the  Emir  Abd  el-K&dir,1  went  on  his  own  business  to  the 
village  of  El-Ashrafiyeh. 

“At  two  o’clock  in  the  afternoon  an  insurrection  broke  out  in  the  city, 
because  the  authorities  had  put  in  irons  some  individuals  who  had  that  day 
made  figures  of  crosses  in  the  streets,  and  compelled  the  Christians  who 
passed  by  to  trample  on  them.2 

“  I  was  then  alone  in  my  house.  My  janizary  and  my  eldest  son  were 
absent  on  business  in  the  palace,  and  my  second  son  was  at  school.  As 
soon  as  the  outbreak  began,  my  janizary,  Hajy  Aly  Alwan,  hastened  home, 
but  the  insurrection  had  already  reached  the  neighbourhood  of  my  house, 
and  it  was  no  longer  possible  for  me  to  go  out  of  it  alone.  I  sent  the  jani¬ 
zary,  therefore,  to  the  Emir  Abd  el-Kadir,  and  requested  him  to  send  some 
of  his  men  to  protect  me.  It  happened  that  he  had  that  moment  returned 
from  El-Ashrafiyeh,  and  had  with  him  only  six  of  his  followers.  He  sent 
me  four  of  them,  but  as  they  were  unarmed  they  were  unable  to  reach  me. 
My  janizary,  however,  bravely  ventured  and  came  to  me  alone. 

“  When  he  came  we  locked  the  doors  of  the  house.  Almost  immediately 
several  armed  men  arrived  and  began  to  break  the  door  with  hatchets.  I 
had  only  just  time  to  put  into  my  pocket  a  quantity  of  gold  and  silver  coin 
which  I  had  provided  in  anticipation  of  such  an  occasion,  when  the  door 
was  broken  open,  and  the  armed  men — most  of  them  Kurdish  irregular  sol¬ 
diers — burst  in  and  began  to  fire  at  me.  I  escaped,  and  while  they  were 
occupied  in  plundering  the  house,  I  went  out  of  the  back  door  with  the 
janizary,  and  my  two  little  children,  Abraham  and  Selma.  At  first  I- hoped 
to  conceal  myself  in  the  house  of  one  of  my  Moslem  neighbours,  till  it 
might  be  possible  for  me  to  escape  to  the  house  of  Abd  el-K&dir ;  but  not 


APPENDIX. 


367 


one  of  them  would  admit  me.3  Then  I  attempted  to  go  in  the  direction  of 
the  Emir’s  house ;  but  a  mob  met  me  and  fired  upon  me.  I  threw  some 
coins  among  them  to  oecupy  their  attention,  and  I  turned  back  in  the  di¬ 
rection  of  the  place  called  Bab  Tuma  (*  Thomas’  Gate’)  where  there  was  a 
guard  of  soldiers.  There  another  armed  party  met  me  and  fired  upon  me. 
I  threw  to  them  also  a  quantity  of  coins,  as  I  had  done  to  the  former  party. 
Again  I  turned  back  and  took  a  third  way,  and  again  a  large  party  of  armed 
men  met  me.  I  knew  eight  of  these  men,  and  gave  their  names  to  the 
Government,  and  six  of  them  have  been  arrested.  Some  of  these  men  at¬ 
tacked  me  with  fire-arms,  some  with  swords,  some  with  hatchets  and  axes, 
and  some  with  clubs.  My  two  little  children  were  behind  me  weeping,  and 
screaming,  saying,  *  Kill  us  and  spare  our  father,  for  we  cannot  live  without 
him !’  One  of  these  cruel  men  struck  my  little  daughter  with  a  hatchet, 
and  wounded  her.  The  attention  of  this  party  also  I  engaged  by  throwing 
money  to  them.  Praise  be  to  His  name,  none  of  the  shots  struck  me, 
though  one  man  fired  twice  at  me  from  a  distance  of  only  two  or  three 
yards ;  but  I  was  wounded  with  other  weapons.  I  got  a  dangerous  wound 
on  the  head  from  the  blow  of  a  hatchet ;  and  had  not  the  janizary  turned  it 
partly  aside,  and  caught  the  arm  of  the  murderer,  the  blow  would  have 
killed  me.  I  received  also  on  the  eye  a  blow  from  a  large  club,  on  my 
right  shoulder  a  cut  of  a  sword,  and  several  blows  on  my  right  arm,  in 
consequence  of  which  I  cannot  yet  hold  a  pen  in  my  right  hand.  On  my 
left  arm  I  got  only  one  blow  of  a  club.  I  had  several  wounds  also  in  other 
parts  of  my  body. 

“Amid  all  this  danger  and  struggle,  I  reached  the  Bazaar  of  Bab  Tuma 
with  the  assistance  of  the  janizary  who  kept  constantly  by  me.  Mustafa 
Bey,4  the  chief  of  the  police  in  that  quarter  of  the  eity,  was  in  the  bazaar, 
and  I  begged  him  to  take  me  to  his  house ;  but  though  his  house  was  close 
at  hand,  he  refused,  and  ordered  some  of  his  men  to  put  me  in  the  house 
of  Faris  el-Khalaf,  one  of  his  followers,  and  a  man  notorious  for  wickedness. 
He  went  away  with  his  followers  and  occupied  himself  in  collecting  his 
friends  to  his  house,  as  I  could  see  from  the  windows  of  the  room  in  which 
I  was  left.  I  could  see  also  the  breaking  of  doors,  and  the  plundering  of 
Christian  houses,  and  the  murdering  of  the  men.  Mustafa  Bey’s  men  were 
busy  plundering,  and  they  brought  some  of  the  booty  to  the  house  in  which 
I  was.  That  made  me  think  that  some  of  the  murderers  would  come  and 
kill  me,  as  happened  to  many  of  the  Christians  who  were  murdered  in  the 
houses  of  the  Mohammedans  where  they  had  taken  refuge.  I  resolved, 
therefore,  as  soon  as  night  came,  to  leave  the  house  I  was  in,  and  go  to  that 
of  Mustafa  Bey  himself,  hoping  that  he  would  not  venture  to  kill  me  openly 
in  his  own  house. 

“  As  soon  as  it  was  dark,  a  number  of  armed  men  came  to  the  door  and 


368 


APPENDIX. 


asked  for  me.  The  door  was  opened,  and  I  thought  they  had  come  to  kill 
me  ;  but  when  they  entered  I  found  that  they  belonged  to  the  Emir  Abd 
el-K&dir,  that  one  of  my  Mohammedan  friends,  Mohammed  es-Sutery,  was 
with  them,  and  that  they  had  come  to  save  me.  They  took  me  to  the  Emir, 
who  received  me  *vith  all  kindness  ;  but  as  I  was  covered  with  blood  from 
my  wounds,  and  his  house  was  filled  with  a  crowd  of  Christians,  he  permit¬ 
ted  Mohammed  es-Sutery  to  take  me  to  his  house  which  was  very  near.  He 
removed  me  at  once  ;  and  leaving  me  in  his  house,  went  in  search  of  my 
family,  from  the  last  of  whom  I  was  separated  before  entering  the  house  in 
which  Mustafa  Bey  put  me.  He  continued  his  search  all  night,  and  brought 
to  me  all  the  members  of  my  family,  except  my  second  son  Selim,  who  re¬ 
mained  hidden  for  three  days,  while  I  supposed  he  was  murdered. 

“  I  shall  state  how  it  happened  that  Es-Sutery  came  to  the  house  of  Mus¬ 
tafa  Bey’s  follower  to  seek  me.  As  soon  as  he  saw  the  insurrection  begun 
in  the  city,  he  hastened  to  my  house  with  a  number  of  his  friends  to  save 
me.  He  found  it  plundered  and  abandoned ;  but  he  searched  for  me  till  he 
learned  that  I  had  got  to  Mustafa  Bey.  He  went  to  him  and  demanded  me 
from  him.  Mustafa  declared  he  did  not  know  where  I  was.  This  caused 
es-Sutery  to  distrust  and  fear  him.  He  went,  therefore,  immediately  to.  the 
Emir  Abd  el-Kadir,  told  him  what  had  happened,  and  assured  him  that  I 
had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  Mustafa  Bey  alive.  The  Emir  at  once  sent  with 
him  eight  chosen  men  of  his  armed  Algerines.  They  demanded  me  from 
Mustafa,  and  he,  unable  longer  to  deny  his  knowledge  of  my  hiding-place, 
sent  his  nephew  to  guide  them  to  me. 

“  On  account  of  my  wounds  I  remained  a  whole  month  in  the  house  of 
Mohammed  es-Sutery,  and  was  treated  with  the  greatest  kindness  and  re¬ 
spect. 

“I  and  my  family  reached  his  house,  stripped  of  our  clothes,  and  robbed 
of  everything  else  we  possessed.  My  little  daughter  and  myself  were  wound¬ 
ed.  I  had  only  two  or  three  piastres  left  of  the  money  I  had  put  in  my 
pocket;  but  Sheikh  Selim  Effendi5  sent  us  clothes  and  other  necessaries, 
and  money  for  our  daily  expenses,  though  he  had  in  his  house  at  the  time 
about  a  hundred  Christians,  all  whose  wants  he  was  supplying.  As  for  me, 
on  the  morning  of  July  the  9th,  I  was  one  of  the  rich,  and  on  the  morning 
of  the  10th  I  was  one  of  the  poorest ;  but  in  every  state  I  praise  the  most 
high  God  for  saving  me  and  my  family  alive. 

“  The  distrust  I  felt  of  the  house  in  which  I  was  first  placed,  turned  out 
to  be  well  founded,  for  after  the  arrival  of  Fuad  Pasha,  it  was  proved  that 
Mustafa  Bey  and  his  nephews  and  followers,  had  in  various  ways  killed 
hundreds  of  Christians,  and  among  them  the  Rev.  William  Graham.  But 
the  Most  High  and  Holy  One  delivered  me  from  their  brutality.  Mustafa 


APPENDIX. 


369 


Bey,  two  of  liis  nephews,  and  several  of  his  followers,  were  hanged  on  the 
20th  of  the  following  month. 

“  The  insurrection  commenced  in  the  bazaars  in  the  city,  and  did  not 
reach  me  till  an  hour  afterwards.  Meantime  the  English  Consul  requested 
the  Pasha  to  send  a  guard  to  my  house.  The  Pasha  replied  he  had  sent  a 
colonel  to  protect  me  ;6  but  no  one  ever  came  to  me  from  the  Government.” 


The  following  notes  to  this  narrative  are  kindly  communicated  by  Mr. 
Robson,  and  will  serve  to  throw  light  on  some  of  the  incidents  and  state¬ 
ments  : 

1.  “  The  Emir  Abd  el-K&dir  was  a  chief  of  the  Moors  of  Algiers,  and 
their  most  distinguished  leader  in  the  protracted  struggle  against  France. 
After  a  long  and  brave  resistance,  he  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  conquerors, 
in  the  reign  of  Louis  Philippe.  He  was  afterwards  released  from  confine¬ 
ment  and  exiled  to  Damascus,  where  he  resided  for  a  number  of  years  previ¬ 
ous  to  1860.  On  account  of  his  high  rank,  his  fame  as  a  warrior,  and  his 
zeal  as  Mohammedah,  he  had  great  influence  in  Damascus  with  both  the 
people  and  the  government.  A  large  number  of  Algerines,  too  haughty  and 
bigoted  to  live  under  a  conquering  infidel  power,  have  emigrated  to  Syria. 
Many  of  them  lived  in  and  around  Damascus.  These  all  obey  the  Emir  as 
their  chief.  The  Emir,  like  every  one  else  in  the  city,  had  been  for  some 
weeks  dreading  a  massacre.  Though  an  earnest  Mohammedan  he  was  anx¬ 
ious  to  prevent  it ;  and  he  made  arrangements  for  arming  the  Algerines, 
and  employing  them  in  defending  or  saving  the  Christians.  He  had  been 
constantly  on  the  alert  for  two  or  three  weeks  previous  to  Monday  the  9th ; 
but  means  had  been  taken  to  persuade  him  that  all  danger  was  past.  Hence, 
as  Meshakah  says,  the  city  seemed  perfectly  quiet  on  that  morning,  and  the 
Emir  went  from  home  on  private  business. 

2.  “  The  arrest  of  two  Mohammedans  for  publicly  insulting  Christians 
was,  of  course,  not  t*he  cause  of  the  insurrection,  but  a  pretext  for  accom¬ 
plishing  a  previously  arranged  plan. 

3.  “  Dr.  Meshakah  often  had  it  in  his  power  to  serve  in  various  ways  his 
Mohammedan  neighbors,  and  never  neglected  an  opportunity  of  doing  so. 
Yet  when  his  life  was  in  danger — when  he  was  hunted  by  a  blood-thirsty 
mob,  not  one  of  them  would  give  him  shelter !  Mrs.  Meshakah  went  among 
them  from  door  to  door,  begging  them  to  receive  her  husband.  She  pros¬ 
trated  herself  on  the  ground  before  their  wives  and  daughters,  kissed  their 
feet,  and  with  streaming  eyes  offered  them  her  jewels,  even  the  very  hair  of 
her  head.  But  not  one  of  them  was  moved  to  pity  ! 

4.  “  Mustafa  Bey  had  received  much  kindness  from  English  Consuls,  and 


370 


APPENDIX. 


always  professed  tne  greatest  friendship  for  Englishmen.  Dr.  Meshakah  was 
long  in  the  employment  of  the  English  consulate,  was  a  British  subject,  and 
had  been  for  many  years  a  personal  friend  of  Mustafa  Bey.  It  was  natural 
for  him  to  expect  protection  from  Mustafa.  There  is,  however,  no  doubt 
now  on  the  mind  of  any  one  acquainted  with  the  facts,  that  if  Abd  el- 
Kadir’s  men  had  not  rescued  him  from  the  house  in  which  Mustafa  placed 
him,  he  would  have  been  murdered  before  morning. 

5.  “  The  Sheikh  Selim  Effendi  is  a  Mohammedan.  Had  it  not  been  for 
Abd  el-K&dir,  Sheikh  Selim  and  a  few  others  of  a  similar  spirit,  the  slaugh¬ 
ter  of  the  Christians  would  have  been  much  greater  than  it  was.  Such  men 
deserve  grateful  and  honourable  mention. 

6.  “  This  is  a  specimen  of  the  deceitful  policy  of  the  Pasha  and  the  other 
Turkish  authorities  during  the  preparation  for  and  progress  of  the  massa- 


TEXTS  OF  SCRIPTURE 

ILLUSTRATED  OR  EXPLAINED. 

- o - 


Pag® 

Gen.  x.  15-18 . 

. 276 

xii.  8 . 

. 178 

xiii.  8-10 . 

. 178 

xiv.  5 . 

.  43,  68,  85 

xiv.  10 . 

. 115 

xv.  18 . 

. 303 

xvi.  12 . 

.  28,  81,830 

xviii.  5 . 

. 332 

jIt.  2 . 

. 198 

xix.  27,  28 . 

. 115 

xxiv.  63 . 

. 161 

xxvii.  33 . 

. 197 

xxviii.  14 . 

xlix.  14, 15 . 

. 250 

xlix.  21 . 

.  263,  266 

Exodus  xxiii.  22-31 . . . 

. 308 

Lev.  xxvi.  30-34 . 

...  49,51,55,58, 110 

183,  247,  826 

Num.  xxxii.  42 . 

.  42 

xxxiv.  4-9 . 

.  288,  809,  816 

Deut.  iii.  4 . 

.  24 

iii.  9 . 

.  30 

iii.  11 . 

.  13 

via.  7-9 . 

.  58 

xii.  2 . 

. 243 

xxv.  4 . 

. 205 

xxviii.  23 . 

. 211 

xxix.  22-24 . 

.  58 

xxxiii.  19 . 

. 244 

Josh.  vii.  4-20 . 

.  179-180 

x.  7 . 

xl.  1,  2 . 

Pa «• 

Josh.  xi.  7 . 

xi  17 . . 

xii.  7 . 

. 803 

xiii.  4-6 . 

...  276,  287,  291,  309 

xiii.  11,  12 . 

xxiii.  13-16.... 

Judges  i.  31,  32 . 

. 276 

i.  33 . 

. 265 

ii.  20-23 . 

. 308 

iii.  31 . 

iv.  6 . 

. 244 

iv.  6-9 . 

. 266 

iv.  11 . 

iv.  13 . 

iv.  14 . 

v.  19 . 

. 259 

v.  20,21 . 

. . 260 

v.  28 . 

. 272 

vi.  3,  seq...  . 

viii.  18 . 

. 244 

xiii.  15 . 

.  88 

xvi.  8 . 

. 209 

xvi.  81 . 

. 221 

xviii.  28 . 

. 274 

xx.  45 . 

. 174 

Ruth  ii.  3,  4 . 

. 197 

ii.  14 . 

. 205 

1  Sam.  vi . 

. 195 

x.  17 . 

xiii.  14... . 

xiv  . . 

. 181 

xxii . 

xxv.  1 . . . 

xxxL  1-8. .. . . 

372 


TEXTS  OF  SCRIPTURE 


1  Sam.  xxxi  8-10 . 

xxxi.  11-13 . 

2  Sam.  i.  19-25 . 

i.  21 . 

ii.  12-32 . 

ii.  18 .  . 

iii.  10 . 

y.  11 . 

viii.  3 . . 

xy.  23, 30 . . . 

xvii.  1 . 

xxi.  8-11 . 

xxi.  11-15 . 

xxiv.  2 . 

1  Kings  iii.  4-12 . 

iv.  13 . 

v.  18 . 

vii.  10 . 

ix.  27 . 

xy.  20 . 

xv.  20 . 

xvi.  31 . 

xvii.  9 . 

xvii.  9-24 . 

xviii.  44 . 

xx.  10 . 

xxi.  23 . 

2  Kings  ii.  24 . 

iv.  8-20 . 

iv.  30 . 

v . 

vi.  13-17 . 

ix . 

ix.  36 . 

xv.  29 . 

xviii.  13 . 

xix.  35 . 

xx.  20 .  . 

xxiii.  16 . 

xxiii.  29-34 . 

xxv.  1-7  . 

1  Chron.  xii.  8 . 

xii.  15 . 

xii.  82 . 

2  Chron.  xvi.  14 . 139, 

xxxv.  21 . 

Neh.  iii.  26 . 

Job  i.  14, 15 . . . 

xxxi.  32 . 

xxxvii.  22 . 


Pago 

Ps.  xxix.  3-6 . 

xlii.  11 . 

. 164 

xlviii.  2 . 

. 123 

lxxii.  16. . 

. 294 

lxxix.  1,  4,  5 _ 

. 129 

lxxxiii.  10 . 

. . 259 

lxxxix.  12 . 

. 252 

civ.  16 . 

. 296 

cxxii.  3 . 

. 122 

cxxv.  2 . 

. 122, 175 

cxxvi.  4 . 

. 196 

cxliv.  12 . 

Cant.  iv.  12, 15 . 

. . 286 

v.  15 . 

Tsa.  i.  7 . 

....'. . .  41 

ii.  12,  13, . . 

. 296 

v.  2 . 

. 120 

vi.  11, 12 . 

.  71 

yjii  t  T  t . 

. 148 

x.  32 . 

. 185 

xiii.  21 . 

.  85 

xiv.  18 . 

. 138 

xvii.  1-8 .  . .. 

. 347 

xvii.  2. T . 

. .  89 

xix.  5-7 . 

. 196 

xxii.  16 . 

. . 139 

xxiv.  1-3 ...... 

.  87 

xxiv.  3 . 

.  49,  51 

xxiv.  12 . 

.  89 

xxv.  11, 12 . 

.  67 

xxvii.  10 . 

.  89 

xxvii.  10, 11 _ 

.  54 

xxviii.  16 . 

. 125 

xxxii.  13 . . 

xxxii.  14 . 

. 49,  89 

xxxiii.  8 . 

. 49,  51 

xxxiii.  9 . 

.  228,  240 

xxxiii.  10 . 

. ;.  70 

xxxiv.  14 . 

.  96 

xxxv.  2 . 

.  240,  2S6 

xii.  15 . 

. 205 

xlii.  15 . 

lx.  13 . 

lxlii.  1 . . 

.  73 

Jer.  iv.  7 . 

.  71 

iv.  26 . 

.  62,  229 

vii.  82 . . 

. 146 

ix.  1,  2 . . 

. 183 

xii.  12 . 

. 71, 184,  237,  318 

xix.  7,  8 . 

.  . 146 

xx  vi.  18 . 

. 122 

xxxii.  43 . 

Page 

256 

142 

255 

256 

376 

,  266 

307 

276 

314 

164 

223 

184 

201 

307 

175 

44 

291 

127 

276 

267 

274 

299 

277 

280 

241 

343 

256 

182 

253 

241 

344 

345 

257 

256 

267 

289 

212 

34 

178 

325 

325 

266 

112 

251 

142 

260 

126 

318 

333 

60 


ILLUSTRATED  OR  EXPLAINED. 


873 


Page 


3  SR.  xlviii.  9.  . .  80 

xlviii.  12 .  86 

xlviii.  19 .  75 

xlviii.  24 .  73 

xlviii.  28 . 79 

xlviii.  32 . 78 

xlviii.  47 .  73 

xlix.  13 . 73 

xlix.  7-22 . 73 


Ezek.  vi.  3-6 . 

vi.  13 . 

vii.  2  . 

vii.  23 . 

vii.  24 . 

viii.  1,  2 . 

xii.  19 . 

xiL  20 . 

xxvi.  3,  4, 12, 

xxvi.  14 . 

xxvi.  21 _ 

xxvii.  9 . 

xxvii.  18 . 

xxxi.  3,  8.... 

xxxix.  18 _ 

xlvii.  15-17. . 


95, 104 
...  300 
....  67 
67, 185 
95, 130 
...  154 
95,  318 
...  66 
...  279 
...  279 
...  19 
...  291 
...  358 
...  296 
...  15 
...  310 


Da*.  v.  7 


173 


Hosea  i.  and  ii .  60 

i.  5 . 250 

v.  1 . 244 

Joel  i.  6-12 .  50 


Page 

Mat*,  xxi.  33 .  .  ....120 


xxiv . 

xxvi.  36.. 

xxvii.  9. .. 

xxvii.  23 . . 

xxvii.  66. . 

Mark  iv.  4 . 

vii.  26 _ 

xiii.  1 _ 

xiii.  2 . 

xiv.  70 _ 

xvi.  3 . 

Luke  iv.  26  .  ... 

vi.  1 . 

. 198 

vi.  12 . 

x.  25-37.... 

xi.  1 . . 

xxi.  33 . 

xxi.  37. . . . 

xxiv.  12..., 

xxiv.  50 _ 

John  i.  46 . 

vii.  53 . 

. 159 

ix.  7 . 

x.  3-5 . 

x.  23 ... . 

•  . 

. 125 

xi.  18 . 

xii.  1 . 

xiii.  26 . 

xviii.  2 _ 

Amos  i.  2 . 240 

ii.  3 . 205 

v.  5 . 178 

Micah  iii.  12 . 126 

Zeph.  ii.  4 . 195 

ii.  4 . 207 

ii.  5 .  202,  214 

Zech.  iv.  5 . 207 

ix.  6 . : . 199 

ix.  9 . 168,  169 

xii.  11 . 260 


Acts  i.  9-12 . 166 

vii.  11 . 355 

viii.  26 . 210 

ix.  1 . 347 

ix.  3 . 357 

ix.  34 . 230 

x.  6 . 229 

x.  9 . 32,  161 

xii.  23 .  237 

xxi.  3 . 277 

xxvi.  13 . 357 

xxvii.  3 .  277 

1  Cor.  xv.  8 . 347 


Matt.  iv.  5  .  ... 
viii.  20  . . 

xi.  21 _ 

xi.  23,.... 
xvi.  13-20 


125 

160 

108 

109 

105 


2  Cor.  xi.  32 .  348 

Her.  i.  14 . 845 

Rev.  xvi.  16 . 261 


INDEX. 


Abel-beth-Maachah,  274. 

Abila,  359. 

Abraham’s  sanctuary  at  Damascus,  357. 
Absalom’s  pillar,  148. 

Aceldama,  146. 

Achzib,  277. 

Acre,  or  Accho,  277. 

Adonis,  River,  290 — Fountain,  298. 

Afineh,  89. 

Afka,  298. 

Ai,  178. 

Ain,  325. 

Ajalon,  177. 

Akir,  see  Ekron. 

Amanus,  287. 

Anazeh  Arabs,  331. 

Anathoth,  1S3. 

Anti-Lebanon,  287. 

Aqueducts  underground,  33. 

Arethusa,  313. 

Argob,  13,  24,  28,  30,  90,  92. 

Armageddon,  260. 

Ary,  62. 

Ascalon,  206. 

Ashdod,  198. 

Ashteroth-Karnaim,  11, 12,  43,  88. 

Athlit,  239. 

Atyl,  54. 

Auranitis,  15. 

Ayun,  82. 

Azekah,  219. 

Baal,  Temple  of,  299 — names  of,  299. 
Baal-Gad,  308. 

Baal-Hermon,  103. 

Bakah,  232. 

Barak,  Victory  of,  272. 

Baruk,  304. 

Bashan,  11  seq.,  29,  35,  45,  84 — plain  of,  60 
seq. — oaks  of,  28,  87 — mountains,  28,  89, 
50,  63,  87. 


Batanea,  34  seq. 

Beeroth,  177. 

Beersheba,  307. 

Beit-Hanina,  172. 

Beit-Jibrin,  215. 

Bethany,  167. 

Bethel,  177. 

Beth-gamul,  70,  81. 

Beth-horon,  177. 

Beth-rehob,  273. 

Bethsaida,  109. 

Bethsaida-Julias,  107. 

Beth-shemesh,  220. 

Beth-Shan,  252. 

Beyrout,  288. 

Bozrah,  64. 

Bozrah  of  Edom,  73. 

Bukfeiya,  299. 

Burak,  25. 

Busr  el-Harlry,  93. 

Byblus,  291. 

Ccele-Syria,  287. 

Caesarea-Palestina,  237. 

Caesarea-Philippi,  105. 

Capernaum,  109. 

Caravan  travelling,  20. 

Carmel,  228,  240. 

Castellum  Peregrinorum,  239. 

Cedars,  295. 

Chorazin,  108. 

Christ’s  baptism,  Scene  of,  111. 

Church  of  the  Sepulchre,  132. 

Coenaculum,  142. 

Daborath,  249. 

Damascus,  342  —  massacre  of,  050  —  holy 
places  in,  355 — plain  of,  20. 

Dan,  104,  308. 

Darom,  264. 

David,  Tomb  of,  142— flight  from  Absalom, 
163 — battle  with  Goliath,  223, 


376 


INDEX, 


Dead  Sea,  112  seq. 

Deir  Dubban,  216. 

Deir  el-Kulali,  299. 

Deir  el-Kamr,  303. 

Dor,  239. 

Druses,  46,  59,  300,  302. 

Duweireh,  93. 

Edrei,  94. 

Eglon,  213. 

Ehden,  294. 

Ekron,  194. 

Elah,  Yalley  of,  219,  222. 
Eleutheropolis,  215. 

Elijah,  sacrifice  on  Carmel,  241  seq. 
Emesa,  314. 

Endor,  255,  255. 

Engannim,  257. 

Esdraelon,  250. 

Galilee,  Sea  of,  107. 

Gath,  217. 

Gaulanitis,  15. 

Gaza,  20S. 

Gebal,  291. 

Geba,  182. 

George,  St.,  192,  2S9. 

Gerar,  Valley,  209. 

Gesliurites,  14. 

Gethsemane,  159. 

Giants,  11,  30,  76. 

Gibeah  of  Saul,  184. 

Gibeon,  176. 

Giblites,  291. 

Gideon,  Victory  of,  253. 

Gilboa,  254,  256. 

Gimzo,  230. 

Goliath,  Death  of,  223. 

Halak,  Mount,  308. 

Hamath,  310 — Entrance  of,  288. 
Harod,  Well  of,  253. 

Hazar-enan,  323. 

Hazor,  Site  of,  271,  275. 

Hebran,  89. 

Helbon,  358. 

Helena,  Tomb  of,  153. 

Hendaj,  Wady,  270. 

Hermon,  103. 

Hinnom,  122. 

Hit,  29. 

Hiyat,  29. 

Hor,  Mount,  287,  316. 

Hospitality,  Eastern,  59,  88; 
House-top,  Prayer  on,  82. 


Hums,  Emesa,  314. 

Hunln,  273. 

Ijon,  274. 

Issachar,  Possessions  of,  250. 

Jabneb,  or  Jabneel,  197. 

Jael,  273. 

James,  Tomb  of,  150. 

Jarmuth,  219. 

Jebeil,  291. 

Jebel  el-Ghurby,  287. 

Jebel  esh-Sheikh,  Hermon ,  287. 

Jebel  esh-Shurky,  287. 

Jerusalem,  119  seq.— View  of,  from  Olivet, 
120 — Walls  of,  122  —  Haram  wall,  124 — 
Tombs  of,  138. 

Jezreel,  256 — Valley  of,  250,  252. 

Jezzln,  305. 

Jobar,  346. 

Jokneam,  261. 

Jonathan,  Death  of,  254. 

Jordan,  101  seq. — Depression  of,  102 — Foun¬ 
tains,  103 — Lower,  110. 

Judgment,  Valley  of,  124. 

Kadisha,  River,  293,  294. 

Kades,  Lake,  315. 

Kanobin,  Convent,  294. 

Kedesh-Naphtali,  270. 

Kenath,  42. 

Kerioth,  82. 

Kidron,  120. 

Kings,  Tombs  of,  152. 

Kiratah,  93. 

Kirjath-jearim,  174. 

Kishon,  241. 

Kufr,  89. 

Kuleib,  Mountain,  63. 

Kunawat,  see  Kenath. 

Kuryetein,  323. 

Lachish,  212. 

Ladder  of  Tyre,  277. 

Lazarus,  Raising  of,  168. 

Lebanon,  285  seq. — Ascent  of,  293 — Sou. 
ern,  301. 

Lejah,  see  Argob,  24,  93,  96. 

Lydda,  191. 

Maacathites,  14. 

Magoras,  River,  289,  299. 

Makkedah,  219. 

Mareshah,  216. 

Massacres  at  Deir  el-Kamr,  303 — at  Dama* 
cus,  350— see  Appendix. 


INDEX 


377 


Megiddo,  Battle  of,  258. 

Merj-’Ayun,  see  Ijon. 

Merom,  Waters  of,  106,  275. 

Michinash,  ISO. 

Migdal-gad,  204. 

Mizpeh,  178. 

Moab,  Plain  of,  77,  79 — Cities  of,  76,  79. 
Moreh,  Hill  of,  248,  251, 254 
Moriah,  120. 

Mujeimir,  63. 

Mukhtara,  304. 

Nahr  el-Kelb,  290. 

Nain,  251. 

Naphtali,  Possessions  of,  262,  History,  265 
— Mountains,  267. 

Neby  Samwil,  Mizpeh,  173. 

Nejran,  92. 

Nob,  184. 

Nobah,  42. 

Og,  12,  95. 

Olivet,  155  seq. 

Orontes,  River,  310,  313,  315. 

Palmyra,  327  seq. 

Paul’s  Conversion,  347,  356. 

Peraea,  165. 

Pharpar,  22. 

Philistia,  189  seq. 

Phoenicia,  276  seq. 

Pilgrim’s  bathing-place,  111. 

Prophecy  fulfilled,  49,  71,  81. 

Prophets,  Tombs  of  the,  150. 

Ptolemais,  Acre,  277. 

Ramleh,  189. 

Rephaim,  11,  30,  83 — Houses  of  84. 

Riblah,  324. 

Rimmon,  174. 

Saccaea,  36. 

Safed,  268. 

Samaria,  231. 

Sarepta,  280. 

Saron,  see  Sharon. 

Saul,  Death  of,  254. 

Sea,  Dead,  112. 

Sea  of  Galilee,  107. 

Sennacherib,  290. 

Sepulchre,  Holy,  132 
Shair,  Wady,  231. 

Sharon,  193,  227. 

Shephelah,  190. 


Shepherds  leading  their  flocks,  45. 

Shocoh,  223. 

Shuhba,  36. 

Shunem,  252. 

Sidon,  280. 

Siloam,  147. 

Sirion,  287. 

Sisera,  Death  of,  273. 

Solomon’s  ascent  to  temple,  126. 

Sorek,  195,  196,  220. 

Succoth,  111. 

Sudud,  Zedad,  316. 

Suleim,  89. 

Sunnin,  Jebel,  298. 

Surar,  Wady,  see  Sorek. 

Suweideh,  55. 

Taanach,  258. 

Taarah,  93. 

Tabor,  243 — Ruins  on,  247 — Views  from,  248, 
Tadmor,  see  Palmyra,  327,  336. 

Tammuz,  292,  298. 

Tel  el-Kady,  Ban,  103, 104. 

Tell  es-Safieh,  Gath ,  219. 

Temple,  site  121 — pinnacle,  124 — destruc¬ 
tion  foretold,  163. 

Tiglath-pileser,  272. 

Timnath,  220. 

Tombs,  in  Hauran,  36,  40 — in  Jerusalem, 
136 — in  Kedesh,  272 — in  Sidon,  280 — in 
Palmyra,  338. 

Tomb  of  our  Lord,  152. 

Tophet,  145. 

Trachonitis,  15,  98. 

Transfiguration,  Scene  of,  106,  243. 
Triumphal  entrance  of  Christ,  168. 

Tyre,  278. 

Tyropean,  121, 126. 

Via  Dolorosa,  131. 

Virgin,  Tomb  of,  151. 

Wailing,  place  of,  128 — for  the  dead,  89. 
Wetr,  63. 

White  cape,  277. 

Wilderness  of  Judea,  167. 

Zaanaim,  272. 

Zacharias,  Tomb  of,  149. 

Zarephath,  277. 

Zedad,  316,  323. 

Zion,  121. 

Ziphron,  314. 

Zobah,  814 
Zorah,  220. 


' 

-■ 


« 


‘ 


. 


' 


■ 


•v.. 


ATD 

i 


DATE  DUE 


APR  2  4 

zm 

oet"2" 

j  ZOf§ 

' 

-a 

HIGHSMITH  #< 

15230 

Printed 
in  USA 

